


Bolt from the Blue

by Umei_no_Mai



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Dismantling the Patriarchy, Fix-It, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Memory Alteration, Minor Character Death, Multi, Polyamory, Queer Characters, Theology, Timoteo | Vongola Nono's A+ Parenting, discussion of MATURE THEMES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 197,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27709981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umei_no_Mai/pseuds/Umei_no_Mai
Summary: Xanxus picks up his first Guardian very early; his father rather wishes he hadn't. Things change accordingly.Also on ff.net.
Relationships: Xanxus/Original Female Character
Comments: 31
Kudos: 242





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 2017; it is complete and there will be no sequel. 
> 
> Varia and other Mafia characters shared with InsaneScriptist.

Reality has gone wrong. Of this she is certain. Whether the wrong is inside her head or outside it is of no particular importance; the fact remains that everything _is_ wrong and there is no way of fixing it.

She is not thirteen, except that she is. Again. Her eyesight is not this clear, except that it is and it _never_ has been before. She is mostly sure of this, but she might be wrong. Her memories are suspect, because her body is definitely somewhere around thirteen even though she has a feeling she grew out of looking like this a while back. Well over a decade back.

She should not be where she is either; the name of this town is unfamiliar and she only knows what country she is in because she recognises the language. Admittedly it's been a long time since she used Italian and her accent marks her as a stranger just as much as her looks do, but at least it's a language she understands. German would have been much harder.

The newspapers and the television in a nearby bar suggest she is in Sicily. They also suggest that she is far too lost to ever get home, because the date on the newspapers is all wrong too. She should not be thirteen if that is the date. She thinks. Again, her memories are suspect because what is more likely, that the world is wrong or that the inside of her head has gone wonky?

Admittedly the sheer _scope_ of the wonky inside her head is rather convincing, but it's her head. It would convince her. Other people are probably going to think she's crazy though.

More of a problem is that she's part-way through puberty, homeless, entirely without money and doesn't know how she got here. The last thing she remembers before waking up thirteen in an alleyway was drinking tea in a Costa aged twenty-nine, which makes less than zero sense. Unfortunately she doesn't seem to be hallucinating. Hallucinations are not this consistent or vividly detailed.

It's been a few days since then. Sleeping rough is terrifying, getting hold of food is only slightly less so and she's sure that a number of the locals have noticed her slinking about. Nobody's attacked her yet, but that probably won't last.

She wasted found coins in a telephone box, trying to call all the numbers she remembers, but none of them work. Not even her grandparents' number, which should have been the same at this date as in the future. But nobody knows who she is asking for. There is no internet for her to look up names on and mobile phones don't even _exist_ yet so those numbers are useless.

Elsewhere as well as elsewhen, provided her memories are not complete garbage. She is praying for a miracle and has been all day, because she needs one. Something, _anything_ , please; a sign or some kind of guidance. Please.

It's getting late in the afternoon when she hears the sound of running feet and angry voices, driving her to hide behind pair of bins and grip the rocks in her jacket pockets. It's hot but she needs the jacket for its pockets, as there is no other way to carry rocks around. She's never used a weapon in her life but a rock is easy: either you throw it and hope you don't miss, or hold it tight and hit somebody with it.

As it turns out, they're not looking for her. They're chasing a boy. A boy who is probably younger than her by a few years, going by his height and build, but much better dressed. A boy who looks local in colouring and bone structure; when he glances back at his pursuers she glimpses red eyes.

His hands are on fire.

This is definitely a sign, she decides as the boy is cornered by his angry pursuers –all five of them almost adult– and a brawl kicks off. There is no other explanation for boys with their hands on fire. So if this is her sign, she should do something.

She removes the most aerodynamic of her rocks from her pocket, hefts it cautiously, steps out from behind the bins and throws it at the teenager with the sawn-off shotgun. It hits him in the temple and he staggers, dropping the weapon with a clatter. The boy with his hands on fire, two of his attackers burnt to ash and a two more sent running, turns snake-quick at the sound, taking in the dropped gun and concussed gunman and sets him on fire too.

Then he looks at her and demands something. In the local dialect she doesn't understand.

"I'm a foreigner," she tells him in regular Italian, knowing she looks it.

The boy frowns suspiciously. "Why did you do that?" He demands. His hands are still on fire.

She opens both hands in a slightly helpless gesture. "I have nothing, my memories don't match up with reality and I prayed for a sign," she tells him bluntly. "You're it."

That gets her a scoffing snort, but his hands snuff out. "Do you know who I am?" He demands.

"No."

"I am Xanxus Vongola," he tells her proudly and oh, maybe she does know who he is after all. Or might do anyway. There's no telling if this elsewhen is anything like that manga she used to read online.

"If I swear myself to your service, will you shelter me?" She asks.

The look she gets now is calculating. "What do you want and what do I get in return?" He demands, looking her up and down dismissively. "You're pathetic."

"I speak Italian and English with a smattering of French and even less German, I can cook, clean, do laundry, garden, sew and other domestic things, I know biology, chemistry, mathematics, art and literature, I can read music and play an instrument, swim and I am very good at managing money and doing research," she tells him promptly.

The way his eyes narrow suspiciously tells her he's noticed a lot more in her speech than she's actually said in words. "What's wrong with your memories?"

"None of the phone numbers I remember led to the people I thought they should, I remember being older than I am now and the year in the newspaper looks all wrong to me," she says bluntly. "The name I remember being mine might not actually be a person that legally exists." She pauses. "As for what I'll do, well… I'm crap at lying, so I'd rather not, I'd probably be crap at murder so I'd rather avoid that too and if you try to extort sexual favours from me I will do something deeply inadvisable and damaging, probably to both of us."

"No lying, no murder and no sex," Xanxus repeats thoughtfully. "No other exceptions?"

"Anything else you want, so long as you pay attention to my limits," she agrees. "I'm only human."

He nods decisively. "What do you want?"

"Shelter, identity, education, protection, purpose," she rattles off immediately. The first and the last matter most, but the others will help her grow and survive longer.

"Deal," he walks up to her and drags her down to her knees by her elbows, then takes her hands in his. "I, Xanxus Vongola, do take you as mine, according to the terms agreed upon. Now what's your name?"

* * *

"This is Xanna and she's mine."

Her little master had deliberately mangled her name into something resembling his own rather than keep it as it was, but Xanna doesn't really mind. His hand around her wrist is very comforting and she has purpose now, which is the important thing. Not having anything to do would kill her just as surely as hunger or exposure, but in worse ways: starvation and illness destroy the body, but lack of purpose smothers the soul. Now Xanxus is her purpose and that is bound to be interesting.

Even though Don Vongola is clearly extremely suspicious of the grubby girl his proclaimed youngest son has brought home with him.

"A pleasure to meet you, young lady," the greying man says with a genial smile. "How did you meet my son?"

"I threw a rock at a man with a gun." It's the truth.

The mafia Don chuckles. "What of your family?"

"I'm not sure I have one anymore," she admits.

"Oh?" He looks sharper now.

"I remember having parents and a younger brother, but then again I also remember being twenty-nine, so," she shrugs, "I might be wrong."

"Quite a conundrum," the Don agrees, eyes cool. "I'm sure we could find out the truth for you, if you wish?" It's not quite a question; it's almost a bribe.

"I don't think you'll find anything useful," she says flatly. "And I made a promise to Xanxus so it doesn't really matter anymore; I'm staying with him." The hand on her wrist tightens for an instant, making her glance sideways at the boy. His eyes are burning.

"I told you, she's mine! That means I'm keeping her!" Xanxus snarls, tugging her into him. Xanna obligingly moves closer, settling half-behind his left shoulder.

"She's a person not a pet," says the rather tall middle-aged man with the prosthetic arm; Xanna thinks his name might be Coyote, but isn't counting on it. "You might have her obedience but you can't own her."

"I never said I owned her!" Xanxus spits, even more furious now. "I said she was mine!"

Xanna carefully places her free hand on his shoulder. "Xanxus, they think you bought me from traffickers or something," she says carefully.

The boy goes rigid; his face is probably a picture, judging by the expressions on the faces of the adults. Then all the tension goes out of his shoulders and he scoffs. "Why the devil d'you think I'd do that?" he mutters bitterly. "I'm _Vongola_."

"So you are, my son," Nono said with a vaguely apologetic smile before looking at her again. "So how did you come to be found by my son, young lady?" He hasn't used the name Xanxus introduced her with yet, which suggests he thinks Xanxus made it up. Which he did, but also did not, not really.

"I woke up in an alleyway three days ago with no money or documents and my brain scrambled, right across Europe from where I think I last was," she says bluntly, "but I'm pretty sure I wasn't raped. I don't hurt enough."

There is a bit of uncomfortable shuffling among the men –Guardians? – behind Don Vongola and Xanxus' grip on her wrist is now tight enough to bruise.

"I don't have any noticeable new scars or aches either," she goes on dispassionately, "so my organs are probably all where they're supposed to be without any unexpected additions. I think I'm O negative, in which case there's probably demand for my blood, but if so why dump me on the streets of Sicily?"

"Why approach my son?" Nono asks this time.

"I prayed for a sign and his hands were on fire." That gets a cough that was probably smothering a laugh from Xanxus' supposed father and several amusing facial expressions from his men.

"I suppose that is as good a reason as any in your circumstances," the Don murmurs wryly. "Very well young lady, I will have a room arranged for you."

"She's mine and she's staying with me," Xanxus interrupts, pulling her arm around his front as he crosses his arms. "There's a room off mine she can stay in."

Don Vongola glances at her, then frowns at his son. "Xanxus, that's not really appropriate," he chides.

"Why not?" It's a challenge; a dare to see if the Don is going to accuse him again, like the trafficking thing was an accusation. These men really do not think at all highly of her little master, despite him being as straightforward as a bullet to the brain. The blatant misunderstandings are kind of heartbreaking.

"I'd rather stay with Xanxus," she says quietly, looking down at the top of his head rather than up at any of the men.

"See, she wants to stay with me too!"

"Perhaps you should both move to a larger suite then, so you have space to spread out," the Don says firmly, indicating that this is not a suggestion. Xanxus shrugs carelessly, unfolds his arms and heads for the door, forcing her to follow if she doesn't want to be dragged.

"Come on Xanna, you need a shower."

* * *

The shower reveals a need for clean clothing, so Xanna is left to wander around Xanxus's current suite in a towel while he hunts down something she can wear. There's not much to look at; the walls are tastefully painted but there're no pictures or posters on them, the only furniture is the bed, wardrobe, desk, chair and bookshelf and none of it looks like anything a pre-teen boy would own if he had a choice. The 'room off his' is more of a walk-in closet, so she's grateful that Don Vongola is moving them somewhere more spacious.

She gravitates to the bookshelf and has a look at the titles. Textbooks in five languages look back at her, mixed in with a spectrum of fiction ranging from literary classics to modern television series spinoff novels. Like the textbooks, there's a range of languages on display. There's even some Japanese manga –well it might be Chinese she can't tell– although that looks rather third-hand. Possibly even fourth-hand. It's slid behind a bunch of other books, so her little master may well have stolen it.

The textbooks are fairly advanced, so he's definitely well ahead of his age-group in terms of education. Most pre-teens also aren't fluent in five languages, even without going into the subjects being discussed in those books.

The door slams open and Xanxus storms back in, a maid following behind with an armful of clothing and the bland expression of somebody who knows better than to let how they feel about their job show to their employer. Except not quite; that look is aimed at her, not at her little master.

"Maria, show her the clothes," Xanxus demands, closing the door before hurrying over to her and dragging her towards the maid. The maid hesitates; red eyes narrow.

"She thinks it's inappropriate for you to watch me dress," Xanna volunteers. "Or even to see the underwear I might wear."

Xanxus rolls his eyes but his shoulders loosen again and he turns his back. "Get on with it then," he demands, folding his arms.

Maria the maid clearly has considerable experience with Xanxus; she immediately pulls up the chair and drapes her armful of garments over it, picking out various things for Xanna to try on. Xanna has to ask a few questions before even starting –she remembers having issues with certain laundry powers making her skin itch– but it turns out a few other people in the building have similar issues and the laundry staff have made adjustments so she is unlikely to find herself coming out in a rash. Five minutes later she is wearing what is definitely a serving uniform, if one tailored for a short man as she prefers wearing trousers to skirts. Her feet are bare –no shoes or socks were offered– and her hair is still wet, but other than that she's reasonably comfortable. Thankfully she doesn't need a bra yet, although she should probably look into where to buy them as that is something that will definitely change soon. She's going to get thicker in the thighs as she grows too, so she won't fit into men's trousers for much longer.

"Is there a hairdryer?" she asks Xanxus, who lost his patience while she was buttoning up her shirt and is now leafing through the discarded clothing and looking extremely unimpressed.

"In the bathroom, maybe," he replies carelessly, all his attention on the clothes. "You can't wear these, you're not part of the staff. You need proper clothing."

"Can I pick them out?" Xanna asks cautiously. She does not get the impression that her little master chooses his own clothes; what kind of ten- or twelve-year-old would wear slacks and dress shirts of his own volition?

Xanxus looks at her curiously. "You want to?"

He very obviously has no idea how much choice there is out there in terms of children's and teenager's clothing. "I would like to if I can," Xanna says carefully, "but I don't know what kind of standard I'm supposed to be upholding, so I would like you to help me choose." Clarity and honesty are the only way forwards now, but she can be clear and truthful without giving all her secrets away.

Xanxus looks pleased by her request. "I'll tell my father, he'll give me money to buy you better clothes," he says, turning away from the now-crumpled uniforms and critically looking her up and down. "And socks and shoes; your old trainers will do for now but you need something better."

"As you say, Xanxus." Xanna has no objections to better shoes.

* * *

The rest of the evening is swallowed by settling into a different set of rooms that are large enough to be an entire apartment; the hallway door opens into a sitting room with a door in one wall leading to a small landing with three bedrooms and two differently sized bathrooms leading off it, along with a walk-in closet with a safe in the back of it. None of Xanxus' original furniture comes with them, but she helps him move his books while the maids move his clothing, bedding and the toiletries from the bathroom. Xanna would rather have her own toiletries as well, never mind her own personalised bedding, but one step at a time. To buy bedding she would need to know what size her bed is and she hasn't even seen it yet.

She has also saved a few of the rocks from her jacket and washed them in the bathroom sink; rocks are good to have and these particular ones are now clean enough to pass as decorations or paperweights. One of them is perfectly shaped to fit into the fold of her palm and another is a thin oval that would work rather well as a lever. The half-brick has been abandoned as too obvious but the river pebbles will probably go unnoticed.

Xanxus is visibly delighted to have a larger living space, especially the extra bedroom; redundant space is not something he's used to then. All the books wind up staying in the main room, possibly because Xanna suggested there was more room for shelves there; her little master is probably not used to being in control of his living space either, which needs remedying. He's always tense and watches the maids like he's expecting them to take things away without asking him first. He's not angry at them about it though, which suggests that his father's orders are to blame there.

Her little master needs to learn to live properly, she decides. Needs to be shown how much control he can exert over his person and his surroundings. That will give him breathing space; knowing how much you can get away with is very liberating.

* * *

Xanna sleeps very badly in her new and comfortable bed, not dropping off until the early hours of the morning and waking to the sound of water in the pipes; that is probably Xanxus showering. Giving up sleep as a lost cause for now she rises, has a stand-up wash at the sink in the other bathroom –there is no shower cap and she doesn't want to get her hair wet– and puts on yesterday's clothes. Maria provided three pairs of knickers so she's not wearing the same ones she did yesterday, but the other things are fine to put on again. Sliding bare feet into her trainers, Xanna wanders out into the main room.

There's now a small dining table over by the window, a desk near the door and a sofa and chair in the middle of the space. All rather fancy-looking and horribly impersonal. No pictures on the walls, the light fitting is a chandelier-thing and the walls are powder blue; it looks like a swanky hotel room rather than a space for actually living in.

A hand around her wrist ends her dissatisfied pondering and she has to jog in order to not be dragged to breakfast.

The breakfast room is not at all what Xanna expected; for one she and Xanxus are the only people in it. There's a small buffet on a trolley and evidence that somebody has already helped themselves to the coffee, but nothing else. Glancing at the clock, Xanna realises that it's barely six in the morning and that Don Vongola probably isn't up yet.

"Father won't be eating breakfast until eight," Xanxus tells her, confirming her suspicions, "but I want to show you the house before then. You need to know where everything is so you can run errands."

Clearly he expects her to make herself useful right away. "What about lessons?" she asks.

"What about them?"

"You are obviously getting a very good education," Xanna tries, "so in order to keep up with you I will need to learn some of the same things. I definitely don't know enough languages to keep up with you yet, for instance, even though I might manage on the science side of things."

"I'll sort out the language thing," Xanus says dismissively, making her wonder how exactly that was going to be sorted out, "and I'll talk to my father about lessons later." Then he tears into his breakfast, so Xanna decides the conversation is over.

* * *

Xanna does not get to see Don Vongola this morning; she is made to wait in the hallway while Xanxus talks to him. This puts her little master's back up right away and makes her wonder if the older man really has the slightest clue how to court a genuinely hostile should-be-ally, because going by his treatment of his youngest he is either blind to the nuances or doesn't think they matter. She lacks a precise grasp of time passing, but before too long there are muffled raised voices coming from the breakfast room and soon after the door is thrown open and Xanxus storms out, grabbing her in passing and dragging her after him.

Nobody calls after them to stop, which is fairly telling. This is clearly a regular occurrence; Xanna lets herself be dragged all the way back to their new rooms before trying to loosen his grip on her shirt.

"Xanxus?" She asks. The pre-teen releases her and takes several deep breaths through gritted teeth.

"He doesn't understand!" Xanxus finally explodes, tone furious yet plaintive. "You're mine! Not staff or anything like that, _mine_! I don't want you wearing the uniform! Nobody gets to give you orders but me!"

Oh, so that's how Don Vongola is trying to play things. Well, time for her to make her position a little clearer then. "Do you know anywhere in the house where large amounts of cash are kept?" This house is more of a working manor than a purely domestic residence, so there is bound to be cash floating around somewhere. Especially since she is mostly sure this is the heart of a large criminal enterprise and those generally run on cash.

Xanxus narrows his eyes at her. "Yes," he says carefully.

"Is there a motor scooter we could borrow, to drive to town ourselves?" Yesterday a car had come and picked up Xanxus when he made a pay-phone call, suggesting he'd got a lift or maybe walked there.

Xanxus smiles. It's actually a very mean smirk but it is still vaguely smile-like and Xanna will take what she can get at this point. "We'd have to go to the next town over, it's bigger," he says thoughtfully. Clearly there is a scooter somewhere, possibly even a range of them to choose from.

"Is there a bus service?" Xanna asks, having another idea. "Carrying a lot of bags on a scooter is awkward but if we chain it to the bus stop and leave a note for the staff, they can rescue the scooter for us then you can call like you did yesterday once we've finished."

"I don't know, maybe?" Xanxus looks like he hasn't considered the opportunities offered by buses before.

"We'll take the scooter today then, and look into buses for next time," Xanna suggests.

Xanxus is visibly enthused by the prospect of 'next time'.

* * *

It's while she's trying to pick out socks that she notices Xanxus's sideways glances at the selection. Children's socks are explicitly gendered, less strictly than adult socks perhaps but still to a truly ridiculous degree. Clothing does not determine gender; it either fits or it doesn't and you either like it or you don't.

"See anything you want to wear?" she asks. They're technically here for her but she doesn't get the impression her little master has ever been allowed to choose his own clothing and that's a crime. Agency is very important for personal security and how is Xanxus ever going to stand on his own two feet as an adult if he hasn't been allowed to practice making easy choices as a child?

"They're all for girls."

Xanna will not let that stand. "Who told you that?"

Xanxus rolls his eyes in disgust. "It's written _right there_."

"And they're lying." His shocked and suspicious eye-contact spurs her onward; Don Vongola may well murder her for this but it's a worthy cause. "Clothing is just clothing. What you wear doesn't make you a boy or a girl, who you are inside does. You are a boy and you will always be a boy even if you wear pink socks. The shop says these are girly socks because they want to make more money, so an adult buying socks for their kids has to buy two lots of socks rather than have their son and daughter just share them. All advertising is lying: the pictures and slogans are insinuating that if you buy the product it will make you happy but it won't and they know it won't. They just want to make you insecure so you buy things to feel better."

His outrage is palpable. "Does _everybody_ lie?" he hisses.

"Everybody trying to sell you something is probably lying about you needing it," Xanna says flatly. "If you really needed it you'd have known that before, like how I need clothes because I don't have any. Once I have clothes I don't actually need more, but the shops still want me to give them money so they try to convince me that the clothes I own are 'not good enough' and I should get more. They do the same with cars and jewellery and shoes and everything."

"I don't need more socks," Xanxus says, his tone uncertain.

"Maybe not," Xanna agrees, "but do you want some? Do _you_ think any of these socks are better than your current socks? Not because the shop wants you to buy more, but because _you_ like them more?"

Xanxus stares at the socks for a long moment before selecting a pair with tigers on and another with bears. "Pink isn't girly?" he asks quietly.

"No," Xanna says firmly. "Flamingos are pink and there are as many male flamingos as female flamingos. I've seen a fabulous eighteenth century painting of a man in pink silk suit. It used to be that baby colours were blue for girls and red for boys, because red is a strong, passionate colour and blue is what the Madonna wears, but the fashion industry decided pink was girly about fifty years ago so they could sell more and now everybody thinks it's blue for boys."

"That's so _stupid_." Xanxus takes two more pairs of socks off the display, one dark pink pair and another actually decorated with flamingos. "Is it the same with skirts?"

"Yes." Xanna turns towards the till. "Scottish men wear kilts, which are basically skirts, and men wear robes in lots of other cultures and there is no real difference between a robe and a dress other than what you call it. Wear what you want and take no shit." The cashier looks amused by the conversation, which is a relief because so far as she remembers gender is still considered performative by most people at this point in time. Then again Xanxus is only nine or ten so he is still young enough to get away with bending the rules a bit without comment.

Xanxus pays for the socks then drags her out of the shop, face set. "You need more clothes."

What her little master means is that he wants to try on clothes too. Xanna is fine with that; this is something she can give him and she is going to give him _everything_ she can.

Clothing leads to toiletries, which leads to stationary and pens in all the colours of the rainbow, then to posters –"To go on the walls of our rooms, they're pretty boring right now" – and on to a toy shop.

"Toys are for babies!"

"Who told you that?" Xanna knows her tone is vicious right now and does not care. "That is a dirty lie; point them out to me and I'll kick them. Toys are for everybody; adults buy toys too, that's what fancy sports-cars are. Adults buy miniature train sets like the one at the stationers and model-making kits and all kinds of other things! Some adults even collect dolls and those are definitely toys!"

"Why do you want toys?" Xanxus asks, voice wavering a little at having his worldview smashed again. Twice in one day is a bit much maybe, but the sooner all that toxic garbage is demolished the sooner he can feel comfortable in his own skin.

"I want a soft toy to cuddle in bed, because I sleep better with something to hold onto," Xanna tells him simply, "and I want games to play with you because that's fun. I want building blocks because I like building things, I want a water pistol to chase you around the gardens with and I want to see what else they have here because there's bound to be something you like and I want to do things you like with you, so I can get to know you better."

Xanxus stares at her for a long tense moment, then grabs a basket, pushes it into her hands and drags her up the nearest isle, scowling furiously. Xanna hopes it wasn't Don Vongola who told her little master that toys are for babies; she's made a promise and will keep it, but doesn't want to die just yet. She has a duty to Xanxus, to ensure he grows up free from the shackles of other people's expectations, and she _will_ see it through to the end.

She has no idea quite how much money Xanxus 'borrowed' for today's trip, but it was clearly a hell of a lot as they have mountains of shopping but haven't run out of funds yet. Hopefully they won't get in too much trouble over that, but Xanna wants to make sure they have plenty of things to fall back on later in case Xanxus's father decides to ground him.

The main difficulty is going to be getting it all back to the house on the scooter.

* * *

Xanxus's plan for getting back into the house proves that he's been sneaking out regularly: they get off the scooter a way down the road, cut across the grass below the boundary line and wheel in through a small gate at the bottom of the garden. From there it's up the paths to the house, leaving the scooter leaning against a hedge as they carry in the bags. Xanxus then quickly unpacks everything, slices off the labels and burns them, then hustles her into helping him put everything away. Clothes into closets, shoes on racks, books and toys onto shelves or into drawers, toiletries into the bathrooms and the posters are unrolled and rolled the other way in preparation for being stuck onto the walls. Only then do they go back downstairs to move the scooter.

Xanna finds this strategy to be very telling; Xanxus has ensured his father can't take any of the things they bought back to the shops, and by putting them away creates doubt that he even bought them at all; maybe they were gifts, or maybe they've always been there. His doing this paints a rather nasty picture of his life so far, implying that people have taken things away from him on multiple occasions.

Once they have put the scooter back where they got it from Xanxus drags her back to his suite, tells her to change into something new and leaves, presumably to put the remaining money back. Xanna decides to shower properly before getting changed into new and clean clothes, so goes to try out her new soap.

She is just getting out of the shower when the door is thrown open. By a strange man. Xanna screams as loud as she can, holding the high note as she clutches her towel with one hand and throws everything within reach with the other. The intruder retreats; Xanna darts forward, slams the door, throws the other lock –this door has two– and leans against it, wrapping her towel around her middle properly as she breathes deeply and tries to think. She didn't bring any clothes with her into the bathroom. Where's Xanxus?

There is a polite knock on the door.

"Xanxus?" she asks despite knowing for certain that it isn't; Xanxus would hammer on the door.

"It's Maria, miss," comes the voice of the maid, slightly muffled by the solid door. "Signor Vongola would like a word."

Xanna considers this. On the one hand, this is Xanxus's father. On the other, she _only_ answers to Xanxus. Politeness will probably serve her best though. "Am I allowed to dress first?" she asks loudly, not opening the door yet.

"Of course, miss."

Xanna cautiously opens the door, leaning against the wall next to it rather than standing in the doorway. Maria is alone and the door connecting the landing to the suite's main room is closed. "Call me Xanna, please," she says, looking the older woman in the eye as she steps out of the bathroom then past her towards the main room. There is muffled shouting coming from the other side of that door.

"Get dressed quickly please, Xanna," Maria tells her. "You're keeping Signor Vongola waiting."

Xanna changes quickly, putting on loose, comfortable trousers and a very cute pink t-shirt before sliding her feet into the ballet flats she bought for wearing indoors and tying up her hair in pigtails. Pigtails make her look young and silly, but that's the point. She is young and silly now, what with being thirteen or thereabouts. Then she heads out to face the music.

The shouting is loud and rather scary. Xanxus is bellowing at his father, fists clenched and glowing, there's another man looking a bit like Don Vongola standing in the door to the hall –also shouting– and half the room is full of people in suits, including the man who barged in on her in the shower who still has soap on his face. Xanna can't make out the words because Xanxus has lapsed into a language she doesn't understand. He spins around seconds after she walks in, stops shouting and lunges for her, but is caught by one of the men in suits. This results in some very loud swearing; it's definitely swearing with how he's saying it, even if she can't make out the words.

"Young lady I would like an explanation," Don Vongola requests firmly and rather loudly, making himself heard over Xanxus's profanity. Except she doesn't _know_ he's Don Vongola, does she? All she knows for sure is that this is the man her Xanxus calls father, that his surname is Vongola and that he's very rich.

"For what?" She asks. What does he want explaining exactly?

"You absconded with my son and a considerable sum of money," Signor Vongola tells her severely.

"I never had any money; I don't even know how much money there was," Xanna says perfectly honestly. "Xanxus said he wanted me to have proper clothes so I suggested he borrow money from somewhere. I never touched it."

"Where did you take my son?"

" _He_ took _me_ shopping," Xanna repeats, a little exasperatedly. "He picked out the scooter, he gave me directions; I didn't even know that town existed before this morning."

"And why did you go along with this irresponsible and dangerous behaviour?" the aging man demands disapprovingly, his presence somehow smothering.

"I promised Xanxus everything I could give him," Xanna replies, trying to breathe evenly. "He just wanted to buy me clothes and I wanted to have clothes. I didn't have socks or pyjamas or t-shirts or a toothbrush or hair ties–" her voice is rising and she lets it, lets her buried grief rise like a tidal wave because there is power and safety there "–or soap or a hairbrush and Xanxus wanted me to have them and–" she sobs, tears clouding her vision, "–and you didn't want to give me _anything_!" Her accusation is a high, ugly wail but she doesn't care. Xanna clutches at herself and cries loudly and messily as the shouting ramps up again. Somebody looms in her peripheral vision and she cringes, stumbling sideways a few steps and stilling as small, hot hands grab her arm and spin her around.

"Xan?" She manages to gasp, blinking away more tears and sniffing.

Fierce red eyes glare into her soul. "You are _mine_ and I am going to look after you properly," Xanxus declares fiercely, every word loud and sharply enunciated, "and you will have everything I can give you."

Xanna reaches out and grips his hands tightly, not caring that they're currently on fire; it's hot but it doesn't burn. She can't stop crying now she's started though, so she just leans into him and sobs, so tightly hunched in on herself that they're pretty much the same height.

He tugs a hand free and cautiously reaches around to pat her back; Xanna tries to fall apart a bit more quietly. This isn't Xanxus's fault. It's a lot easier to breathe now too, so she's less afraid and that makes it possible to take deep breaths, eyes closed and forehead resting on Xanxus' shoulder. She's still sobbing and shaking though.

"Xanna?" Xanxus sounds worried. Probably because she's not stopping crying; the hand not patting her on the back twists out of hers and slides up her arm to grip her elbow.

"Sorry, I," she tries, "I, I've only got you, now, and, I thought, thought he was going to, make me," she can't even finish that sentence. It's too scary and makes the sobs come back.

Xanxus doesn't need her to finish the sentence; he knows exactly what she's worried about judging by the way he suddenly pulls her closer and digs his fingers into her flesh. "Mine," he hisses fiercely in her ear. "Only mine, I won't let anybody take you away, not even my father!"

"Kay," Xanna manages, eyes screwed shut and breathing deeply through her nose in between sniffing. "Believe you."

"Have you calmed down now?" Xanna cringes into Xanxus at the sound of the voice that threatens everything she has managed to hold onto since arriving in this confusing and terrifying new place.

"Go away!" Xanxus snarls. "You made her cry, go away! I was trying to be a good boss, like you always say I need to, and you wouldn't let me! You say looking after the family is the most important thing but you don't really mean it! She's mine and I don't care what you think! Leave us alone!"

"I apologise, my son," Signor Vongola sighed. Xanna stiffens and looks up at him.

"You're not sorry," she manages. "You're not sorry you upset me; you're not sorry you just tried to take me away from the only person in the world who cares about me. You're just sorry trying to do that made your son angry."

"You think so?" Signor Vongola asks quietly.

"I know it is the truth." Xanna isn't entirely sure how she knows that, but she knows it right to her bones. Don Vongola –because this _is_ Don Vongola– does not care about her at all. She is a massive inconvenience to him and he wants her out of his life. But he is going to have to live with disappointment.

"Father?" Xanxus asks sharply.

The Don sighs. "I fear she may be a liability," he says, like that isn't an obvious sidestep.

"I know she's pathetic," Xanxus replies bluntly, "but I can fix that. Anyway, all family is a liability, you said so. That's why we have to be strong, to protect the family."

The Don's eyes slide back to Xanna. "No comment?" He inquires lightly.

"He told me I was pathetic to my face right before I pledged to him," Xanna manages to say without her voice wobbling too badly. "Still accepts me though." She took another deep breath. "Still wants me."

"I promised and you're mine now," Xanxus confirmed flatly. "I don't break my promises."

"I know." It was the truth. Xanxus does not break his promises, the same way the earth revolves around the sun. "You don't lie and you keep your promises."

She feels him relax. "You don't lie either," he adds confidently.

"I am very bad at it so prefer to avoid it entirely," Xanna agrees. "If I ever tried you would notice instantly." That gets her a tiny amused huff.

"How do you know he tells you the truth?" Don Vongola asks mildly, like that's not an insult.

Xanna glares at him. "The truth _is_. Like, like light and gravity and love are. Truth is _tangible_. It has power and weight and substance." She knows this, it's written in her soul. "Xanxus tells the truth; his words have weight."

"Where mine do not?" The man seems more amused by the implicit accusation.

"Your words are all shadows and mirages," Xanna mutters grumpily, "with the occasional thrown rock. If you told me the sky was blue I'd still double-check with Xanxus."

There's a round of chuckles; she's reminded of their audience. She doesn't care that they've seen her cry though; it takes courage and strength to cry in public.

"I do regret upsetting you, young lady," Don Vongola tells her a little ruefully. "Xanxus, perhaps you could take her for a medical check-up? To make sure she's in full health."

Xanxus' arm drops from her back and he heads for the door, forcing her to follow or be dragged by the elbow. The crowd parts to let them through and they're out in the hall and away in seconds.

"Was that true?" Xanxus demands moments later. "What my father said?"

"He regrets that upsetting me was necessary," Xanna replies quietly. "Which it wasn't, but he thinks it was. He would do it again if he thought it would get him the results he wanted." She takes a breath. "But he really was sorry that you were upset by it all. He didn't want to upset you."

"But he doesn't care about you."

"No."

"Not even just because you're mine."

Xanna shrugs; Xanxus' father does not care about her at all. That is the truth. He might possibly think she is useful, but he doesn't care. Not like Xanxus does. "I'm sorry he disappointed you," she says.

"He goes on and on about looking after family," Xanxus growls, leading her around a corner.

"I doubt he sees me as part of his family," Xanna points out rather reasonably. She hasn't even been here a full day yet.

"Well I see you as part of _my_ family and he sees _me_ as family, so that should count!"

Xanna hums, not saying that Don Vongola is probably one of those people who considers children to be mentally immature and therefore incapable of making rational, competent choices. She doesn't know for sure if that is true or not. However he initially believed that she had taken advantage of his son, which implies that he thinks Xanxus is easily led. That is untrue, but believing whole-heartedly in a lie makes you susceptible to other lies, both ones other people tell and the ones you make up inside your own head.

"I am very happy to be part of your family," is all she says.

* * *

"Good morning kids," Massimo says as he wanders into the breakfast room trailed by three Guardians, who all wander out again upon determining that there is nobody else in the room except Xanxus and herself; presumably in search of their own breakfasts. Massimo settles opposite them a few minutes later, plate bearing a ham sandwich. "Nice eye-liner, little brother."

Xanxus grunts an acknowledgement; the gold eye-liner does look very good on him. The make-up wars died down during August due to it being far too hot for Xanxus to wear any, but now September is starting the conflict might flare up again. The battle lines fall with Don Vongola, Enrico and Federico on one side, Xanxus on the other backed up by Massimo and his grandmother. Xanna is of course on Xanxus's side, but as she is not actually a Vongola her opinion is no more sought after than those of the other Guardians. Not that she is a Guardian either.

Xanna recognises that she is the technical instigator of this conflict due to her firm denouncement of gendered clothing and accessories –which is what led to Xanxus buying the make-up in the first place and experimenting with it on both of them– but it was Federico's insistence that Xanxus _should not_ wear make-up that made her little master dig his heels in and persist. If nobody had commented then Xanxus' interest would probably have waned within six weeks or so; instead a fuss had been made, battle lines had been drawn over the dinner table and here they are four months on, with Xanxus still experimenting with eyeliner, eye-shadow, lipstick and nail polish.

Admittedly the nail polish doesn't really get commented on –Xanxus sticks to clear or black on his hands which is sufficiently 'manly' to pass– but Xanna knows Don Vongola and his fussier sons would object more if they realised that Xanxus is the only reason she wears nail polish at all: he does all her nails every week, sometimes twice a week. His toenails are also invariably much brighter and frequently sparkly. Hers are too, even though glitter polish is so much harder to get off toes.

Xanna gets the impression that this campaign has worked wonders for Xanxus' relationship with Massimo, who at that initial dinner very sensibly declared that his baby brother could wear anything he liked and the makeup wasn't hurting anybody, so there was no problem. Xanna also knows that Massimo's Guardians have been smuggling in new nail polish bottles and eye-shadows for Xanxus to play with, along with magazines to provide new ideas. Xanxus's grandmother has been right behind him too; she was the one to teach him to apply liquid eyeliner and the various tricks to using foundation, which Xanna has been model for. Xanxus doesn't usually bother with foundation, but he treats applying makeup like he does all his other skills so it gets practiced regularly and occasionally experimented with. He is ambidextrous and his hands are much steadier than hers, so he doesn't usually let her apply anything more complicated than lipstick to either of their faces; he can do it all so much better.

"Any plans for today?"

Xanxus swallows his food and meets his brother's eye. "Xanna is learning to shoot," he says firmly.

Xanna does not particularly want to learn to shoot, but Xanxus insists so it is going to happen. He has already beaten gun safety into her head and forced her to take on an extremely challenging exercise regime, but shooting will hopefully be less painful than learning languages turned out to be. Xanna had been expecting textbooks and conversation lessons, not a grey-haired woman with a sly smile stopping by in early August and dropping four-and-a-half languages directly into her brain. She spent most of the following week delirious –all she remembers is pain and vividly unpleasant dreams– but since then she has been able to read Xanxus' Japanese manga without any trouble and has been expected to participate in his lessons on Russian, German and Greek literature.

Her French is finally fluent as well, rather than just passable, and she no longer mixes it up with German when writing. Xanna does like the advantages provided by being polyglot, but would have much preferred for the learning process to have been less painful.

"You are?" Xanna looks up at the second of the Vongola brothers.

"Xanxus says so," she agrees.

"You always do exactly as he tells you to, don't you." That isn't a question, so Xanna doesn't bother answering. "What if he asks you to do something you don't want to do?"

"He won't."

Massimo smiles, the expression wryly cynical. "You sure about that?"

"He is aware of my limits and has agreed not to violate them." Xanna pauses, feeling for the nuances in what Massimo wasn't saying. "And I am allowed to enforce those limits, because they are the conditions of my pledge to him."

"So it was a mutual pledge," Massimo muses. Clearly he's been wondering about that.

Xanxus glares across the table. "It's not a proper pledge if both sides don't promise."

"My apologies little brother; you are, of course, completely right," Massimo drawls. "Dragging Xanna into your bed every night is a bit much though; according to the maids her bed hasn't been slept in for a month."

"We've been sleeping on the floor," Xanna tells him bluntly; "It's too hot in bed."

"On _Xanxus's_ floor," Massimo specifies, "while mostly naked and flopped over each-other."

"It's too hot for pyjamas in summer," Xanxus says matter-of-factly, "and everybody moves around in the night." True, but not Massimo's point; Xanxus knows exactly what his brother's point is and is deliberately missing it. Because he thinks it's funny to miss it and that the point is stupid. Which it is; they're both children, nothing is happening.

"Are you going to stop sleeping together when it gets colder?" Massimo asks.

"No."

"And you're fine with this, Xanna?" Massimo is genuinely concerned. That's rather sweet of him and at least he thinks of her as a child with feelings and vulnerabilities of her own, rather than however his father sees her.

"I sleep better with something to hold onto," she says lightly, "and Xanxus makes me feel safe." Sleeping alone in her room here has never felt safe, which she knows is due to getting barged in on while getting out of the shower on her first day. Xanxus noticed she wasn't sleeping, demanded to know what the matter was and then took to joining her in her bed most nights until it got too hot. He then decided they would be sleeping together on his floor, so she mostly uses her room for storage now.

"I don't think this has reached Dad yet," Massimo tells Xanxus, "since he's not tried to take you aside and ask about it, so watch out for that."

"Why is he convinced Xanna wants to hurt me?" Xanxus snarls, throwing up his hands and kicking the table leg. "It's stupid!"

"He doesn't understand me," Xanna replies, pushing her plate away. "He seems to think I have a hidden agenda."

Xanxus snorts. "You have a fucking obvious agenda," he snarks. "You want people to stop lying all the time."

"Language, little brother," Massimo says dryly. "I think he believes Xanna wants more from you than you're willing to give."

"I'm already getting everything I need from Xanxus," Xanna says blankly. "I told him what I needed right from the start and he's giving me all of it. That was the deal; I get everything I need, he gets everything I can give."

"And what do you need?" Massimo asks, adult superiority seeping into his posture and tone.

Xanxus bares his teeth. "Shelter, identity, education, protection, purpose," he rattles off instantly.

Massimo opens his mouth, pauses and closes it again. "That's… not a bad summary," he concedes eventually. "Housing, food and clothing go under 'shelter' I assume, education you're getting, protection my baby brother is very determinedly providing and he's very clear on what he wants from you, so you have purpose. Identity is what?"

"Legal identity, for one," Xanna explains, "since I had no paperwork before he made your father get me some. Then my name and family connections, as those are a large part of personal identity. I am Xanna, belonging to Xanxus who is Vongola."

"But not truly Vongola yourself," Massimo deduces shrewdly.

"Your father says not." Xanna would not mind being Vongola, but not being Vongola means she belongs to Xanxus and only to him, purely and incontestably. There's security in that. She knows Xanxus will fight to protect her; she is far less certain of Don Vongola doing so. "I won't promise him anything unless Xanxus agrees to it first, so I'm not Vongola."

"He won't even let you be my brother's Guardian?" Massimo looks incredulous.

"Nobody's explained to me what one of those actually is," Xanna admits. "Xanxus told me what they do and why you all have them, but he's fuzzy on the fine details since he doesn't know why Don Vongola says I'm not one either."

"It's a Flame thing," Massimo says bluntly. "Well, the bit Dad's fussing about is anyway; it's not really a requirement but the Flame thing is undeniable proof of being a Guardian and Vongola Law then forces everybody to recognise the relationship as such."

"So I can be a Guardian without this Flame thing," Xanna summarises, "but since your father doesn't want me to be Xanxus's Guardian, he can deny me the position on the basis of the _lack_ of Flame thing."

"Precisely."

"That's unfair."

"Yes." Well, it's nice that Massimo recognises that. He even explained the details to her, if very vaguely.

"How do you even prove the Flame thing?" Xanna doesn't ask for specifics; Flames are something she barely knows anything about because she can't use them. Xanxus has always had his, so has no idea how to wake hers up –he says she has them and she believes him but that's not really useful as a starting point– and Don Vongola has seen fit to deny her training in that area, so she is stuck. She doesn't even know what type she has.

"Active Flames make it more obvious," Massimo explains, "but mostly people go by behaviour and conviction. You're pretty easygoing around my little brother and not really protective of him at all, so you probably aren't a Guardian."

I'm not protective?" That's the biggest load of bullshit Xanna has ever heard. Xanxus doesn't need any help on the physical side of things so she doesn't bother, but emotionally? She's ferociously protective of his mental health and she knows it.

"Lie," Xanxus chimes in dryly. "Does Dad think you rip his stupid lectures apart for fun?" Her little master is resigned to her doing that and does actually appreciate it… although he also finds it a bit baffling how physically demonstrative she is in private. She likes hugs. She will convert him eventually.

Xanna has no idea about what goes on in Don Vongola's head though. "Maybe?"

"If you were a Mist you might mess with Dad for the hell of it," Massimo concedes, "and you do act kind of Misty sometimes."

Xanxus snorts. "No, Xanna's more like a sledgehammer: if it's a lie, she smashes it."

"Am I that unsubtle?"

"Yes."

"I can live with that."

"It's _how_ she smashes things that comes across as Misty, little brother," Massimo says in a rather put-upon manner, "the clever wording, tripping people up on their own lies, coming up with multiple reasons for doing something at the drop of a hat despite none of them being her actual motive."

"So my being polite and offering ways for other people to save face make me suspicious." That was rude.

"More that you don't fit into any of the neat little boxes Dad is used to categorising Flame-users by," Massimo sighs. "Which is probably because you weren't raised Vongola, but whatever; nobody listens to me." That is only partly true; what he means is that his father puts no stock in his opinions and his other two brothers don't listen to him much either.

"So Dad's being stupid and prejudiced while insisting that he isn't," Xanxus summarises, getting to his feet. "Whatever; come on Xanna."

"Coming." Off to the shooting range.

* * *

A few days later there is another fight between Xanxus and his father, but one not at all connected to sleeping arrangements: Don Vongola has arranged for her to start attending school. Which Xanna would not have minded had he asked Xanxus about it first, or even informed them at some point sooner than the evening before the first day of term. Suffice it to say that dinner is ruined; new china may also be necessary considering that Xanxus dragged the tablecloth off the table mid-tantrum, taking most of the plates and food with it.

Xanxus is utterly enraged, made more so by his father's point-blank refusal to let her continue sharing his tutors even in the face of fire and destruction. However Xanxus for all his strength of will is not quite ten yet, so he runs out of energy after several hours of howling fury; Xanna eventually has her swaying, semi-conscious little master handed off to her by Don Vongola and is sent to bed.

Xanna carries her boy back to their suite, gives him a quick sponge bath and applies antiseptic to his injuries before tucking them both into his bed. Don Vongola has made his move so now it is her turn; she has had several hours to think her retaliation through while waiting in the hall, in between wincing at the explosions and screaming.

She wakes to arms wrapped tightly around her ribs and Xanxus crying tears of frustration into her chest.

"You're mine! He doesn't get to take you away from me!" Xanxus sounds more desperate than anything else and Xanna hates it. Why is Don Vongola doing this to a child he claims to love? She doesn't care either way about attending school –her future is set in stone so grades mean less than learning useful things– but this is hurting Xanxus and that is not allowed.

Good thing she has a very tidy plan. "Xanxus, come to school with me."

Xanxus stares at her, wild-eyed and trembling. "What?"

"He wants me to go to school and he is an adult with authority over both of us; we can't stop him from forcing me to attend school," Xanna explains, "but you can come with me. You're on my level in most of your studies so you'd have no trouble with the work and if he tries to make you stop then he has to either admit that he only set this up to separate us or make some excuse that would insult the school administration. I asked Visconti for more details while you were fighting: I've been put in the diplomatic track at the Vongola-affiliated high school. Classes are on economics and laws and cultures of the various countries with strong Underworld ties to the Vongola, with opportunities for specialisation in other cultures a few years ahead." It is very well-chosen for her actually; if it hadn't been a deliberate ploy to drive a wedge between her and Xanxus she would have been grateful. "Languages are assumed to be fluent, there's a bit of science on the side but it's mostly about learning to listen to what people really mean and negotiating without losing face."

Xanxus is listening. Really listening with that tiny crease between his eyebrows that says he's working the angles in his head.

"Your father is going away on business this morning," Xanna goes on recklessly, "so if you pretend to sulk in here I can fetch you breakfast and then alter a pair of my uniform trousers to sort-of fit you before the driver takes us over to the school; your father set this up in secret so the driver won't know you're not supposed to come. Then after lunch when we get back you can talk to your tutor, apologise for not showing up and say that your father has set things up so _we_ can attend school, you'd think he'd tell people this, can scheduling be rearranged? Or subjects be moved around a bit so we can get our homework done? Anyway, the school isn't going to question you showing up, there's clearly been some paperwork lost somewhere, and when your father gets back next week you'll have a routine going that he can't interrupt without raising serious questions. After all, you're doing so well at school and getting to know people in the wider community…" Xanna tails off with a grin.

Xanxus bares his teeth. "He would lose face if he took me out of school for no reason, especially if I'm in a class several years ahead of my age and doing well."

"Lots and lots of face, especially since by then everybody at school would know I'm yours and that you don't like being apart from me," Xanna agrees. "Some people will assume I'm your Guardian, others will think I'm an adopted sibling your father picked up to socialise you a bit and others still will come up with all kind of outlandish rumours, but they'll be talking about us and that makes us visible. And your father cares about what people think." Which is exploitable.

"Yes," Xanxus says firmly, sitting up abruptly and rolling out of bed. "Where are your textbooks?"

"Visconti said they got put in my room along with the uniform," Xanna tells him, rolling out of bed herself and heading for the bathroom. "I'll get dressed and get us breakfast."

"I want hot chocolate," her little master demands, fire back in his eyes at last, "and brioche and Bresaola and figs and ricotta and honey–"

"Okay, okay, let me shower first," Xanna counters laughingly, hands raised in surrender.

* * *

Xanna's arrival at mafia high school is almost identical to the vaguely remembered first day at normal high school, but the differences really stand out. For one, she is a year younger than most of her year-mates; going by age she should be in her last year at middle school and Xanxus his final year of elementary. There are a couple of others about her age and one a year younger, but Xanxus is the youngest in her new class by over two years.

For another everybody is wearing the completely hideous school uniform –thankfully Don Vongola bought her trousers rather than the skirts some of the girls are wearing– which appears to have been specifically selected so nobody looks good in it. Xanxus spent a good fifteen minutes fussing over her makeup before they left –something she would never have bothered with by herself– so she is wearing lip-gloss, eyeliner and an eye-shadow which somehow makes the terrible uniform trousers look slightly less terrible. Her nail polish is turquoise and sparkly –done yesterday morning when she had no idea this was coming– so it clashes with the terrible trousers, but there's no helping that so she's not worrying about it.

Thirdly, Xanxus has a death grip on her right wrist and is unlikely to let go any time soon. The hastily-shortened trousers he is wearing are too big for him around the waist but a belt makes that less obvious, his shirt is one of his own and therefore much higher quality than the standard school offering and his tie is also rather nicer, or would be if it didn't look so abused. It's black and narrow though, which is the important bit. He is scowling blackly, which means he's nervous; he's never attended any kind of school before. Remembering that reminds Xanna how incredibly isolated her little master is: she is his only friend, he knows nobody his own age and has no social experience. Actually that isn't true; up until he was six he was living more-or-less on the streets with his mother. So he does have early social experience, but not in this kind of environment and not for a long time.

The first day of classes is fairly informal and no text books are required; it's mostly about meeting the teachers, getting the timetable and being told what other specialist materials they're going to need in later classes, if any. Mostly what it's about is getting to know their classmates, as there's five years of high school ahead of them all and they're stuck with each-other.

It's a little bit amazing how quickly Xanxus adapts: barely five minutes after they find the right classroom and exchange introductions with the teenagers already in it and he already has them looking at him as a person rather than an oddity. Xanna also finds out that Xanxus knows a whole lot about the families and backgrounds of his new classmates, most of which he has probably picked up by eavesdropping.

By the end of the day Xanxus has been promised better-fitting pairs of uniform trousers by their class tutor, has become the focus of a curious social circle of half-a-dozen teenagers and is visibly blossoming under the attention and affirmation. He's politer than she's ever heard, paying fierce attention to how everybody else is interacting, participating in the conversations without trying to dominate them, offering interesting information and actually listening to everyone. He's also side-eying some of the girls' hairstyles, so Xanna has a feeling she's going to have to grow her hair out more so he can experiment. It's no great hardship; longer hair is easier to manage, so far as she remembers.

She doesn't actually do much talking; she is more of an outsider than Xanxus, knowing nothing at all about the Cavallone, Visconti, Lanza, Riccio, Vezzini, Notaro, Bianchi and Superbi families that the classmates in the closest desks belong to. In fact she doesn't even have a surname anymore, which makes the first class register a bit embarrassing –damn Don Vongola for definitely doing that on purpose– for the split-second before Xanxus speaks up:

"She's mine and nobody else's."

That statement creates the impression that whatever surname she may once have had has been firmly erased to consolidate Xanxus's claim, which does lead to an interesting chat with a couple of boys called D'Ignoto in between lessons, discussing adoption, orphans and Vongola Alliance naming conventions. It turns out that it is perfectly 'respectable' for a Vongola member to rename themselves after their profession if they lack a surname, wish to renounce their family names or even just want to strike out on their own. Xanna isn't sure what her profession is –since it apparently isn't 'Guardian' however much that might fit– but the jokey suggestions pass the time until the next teacher shows up and the class goes through the whole introduction again.

By lunchtime Xanna has made some tentative friendships but Xanxus has half the class enthralled and is fully committed to staying at school. He's a brilliant boy and has clearly been desperate for social connections. These kids aren't quite his peers, but they're close enough and more mature than anybody else his age would be. They're also people who have chosen the diplomatic track for themselves: they want to talk, listen and debate, discussing points of view and pooling known information. They are people who pick words apart and discuss nuances, looking for the bigger picture and not settling for what they can see on the surface. In other words, people who are actively trying to avoid the wilful stupidity Xanxus is so frustrated by at home.

Her scheme to not get separated from Xanxus while thoroughly inconveniencing Don Vongola is turning out even better than she'd hoped; she may have to thank Xanxus's father for setting this up.

* * *

Xanxus very obviously loves school. He argues with the other students and occasionally with the teachers but it lacks the notes of frustration and desperation that his fights with his family carry within them. He also keeps his Flames firmly smothered, as it's considered inappropriate to use or even mention Flames in an environment where a good number of the students don't actually know what they are; Flame training is a family matter. That one of their classes –Philosophy– is essentially all about teaching them how to argue makes it all that much funnier; Xanxus is very attentive then.

He enjoys the arguments, loves that people talk back and have different opinions based on knowledge they are happy to share with him; smart as Xanxus is, he's still a very sheltered child in the care of Don Vongola and has a lot of blind spots. He likes having people to talk to about the things he enjoys and finding out new things he could be doing; Xanna has already been made to promise to take him to a library and that they will go ice-skating once the weather gets colder. Her eyeliner being complemented leads to Xanxus discussing makeup with Daniela Vezzini, Falena Superbi and Emanuela Bianchi as they all argue about what would suit her best considering her pale colouring. The next day he wears eyeliner to school and is complemented extensively, including by the D'Ignoto boys who are experimenting with their hair colour. This leads to Xanxus discovering the existence of gothic and punk fashions, which Xanna can tell is going to be amusing for her and headache-inducing for his father.

She's well aware of the unavoidable upcoming clash, but Xanxus is living in the moment and she doesn't want to spoil that. He's making a wonderful impression on his teachers and on his classmate's parents by proxy and he's so much calmer it's amazing. Everybody at the house has noticed too: they spend the afternoon with his grandmother on Saturday and when she asks about school Xanxus instantly brightens, expounding at length about classes and connections and new things he's discovered. Signora Vongola gives Xanna a very knowing look over her tea while he is in full flow, but the approving smile says that she is in their corner now.

Then Don Vongola returns halfway through the following week –while Xanxus and Xanna are at school– and things come to a head. Not that either of them knows anything is amiss until they return from classes, Xanxus with his head in a gothic music magazine and several pirated cassette tapes hidden in his rucksack and Xanna clutching the camera she has been lent by the school for their art project. It's intensely disheartening to see how Xanxus's buoyant mood collapses when he scrambles out of the car and sees two of his father's Guardians waiting for them outside the front door.

"Good day at school?" Visconti asks calmly, smiling at them both.

"We got the results of our starting tests back; I came fifth in class," Xanxus replies sharply, shoulders stiffening defensively and one hand snaking out to grab her wrist. That's turning into a bit of a tell; Xanxus tends to grab hold of her any time he feels his right to run her life is being questioned. Of course he also does it when nervous, excited or impatient, so it's not such a big deal really. He's nine; he'll grow out of it.

"And you, Xanna?" She gives the man mental points for calling her by her chosen name; Don Vongola is _still_ calling her 'young lady'.

"I came twenty-fourth overall, but top of the class in biology and third in economics," Xanna replies evenly. "I have remedial work to do for civic studies and Japanese calligraphy." 'Civic studies' is basically mafia social indoctrination and she left most of the test paper blank due to not knowing what the questions were about. Calligraphy is an issue due to being left-handed and never having done it before; her brain knows what her hands _should_ be doing due to having it implanted last month, but implementation is spotty.

"Xanna doesn't know anything about the Vongola," Xanxus says bluntly. "I didn't tell the teacher that Dad won't let Xanna be Vongola and ordered me not to tell her family things."

That is news to Xanna; it's clearly not news to Visconti though, as he looks more pained than surprised. "She is part of the Vongola now, Xanxus; your father wouldn't have enrolled her in the Academy otherwise," the Guardian replies.

"He didn't give her a surname," Xanxus says hotly, glaring up at the man. "Not even a placeholder one like Trovato or Incerti. She's on the school register without a surname." Xanna realises belatedly that this is a major sore point for Xanxus; possibly to do with his particular parentage and related issues –his mother was a prostitute and possibly mentally ill from what little he's let drop so far– so he's taken it a lot harder than she has. Most of her unease is due to not actually remembering her original surname, like she can't remember her birthday. The medic who looked her over estimated that she had turned thirteen in early April, but even that doesn't ring any bells. It is really disconcerting.

Visconti's face smoothes out, blank to hide his reaction. That's a reaction in itself really. "Ah."

"The two D'Ignoto boys in our class offered to adopt me but Xanxus didn't want to share," Xanna says, trying to lighten the mood.

"You're mine and nobody else's," Xanxus replies automatically, glancing at her grumpily. It's not a serious glare though, so mission accomplished.

"Why the camera?" Nie asks, transparently trying to change the subject.

"Art project," Xanna replies, "on how the medium affects the subject being portrayed. We've got a list of twenty-eight different things I have to photograph and Xanxus has to do fine-point ink sketches of. Everybody has the same list and a different medium; in two weeks' time everything is getting compared for a class discussion." Xanna likes this project because it's all about presentation bias, not that the teacher has said so in as many words.

"Half of the requirements are really precise but the others are just annoying," Xanxus complains. "How am I supposed to draw laughter or heat or rest?"

"How did you end up with a camera?" Visconti asks shrewdly. It's a good question; the camera is a proper old-fashioned manual one with adjustable exposure rather than a basic point-and-shoot.

Xanna grins. "I demonstrated I knew how to use it," she replies smugly. "Where and how to load the film, selecting exposure times, winding on the film and everything."

"She even knows a bit about developing film," Xanxus adds proudly, equally smug despite her competence in this field not having anything to do with him. "The teacher is developing the films though, so she has to get her work in by next week rather than having a fortnight," he finishes a little petulantly.

"Can we get started now?" Xanna asks, not really holding out any hope for the answer being 'yes' but wanting to find out what kind of censure she is going to suffer for her thwarting of Don Vongola's latest attempt to disentangle her from his son.

"I'm afraid not," Visconti says. "Xanxus, your–"

"Father wants to talk to me, I _know_ ," Xanxus grumbles, shrugging off his backpack and shoving it at Xanna along with the magazine.

"Xanna is also expected," Visconti adds.

"Did he ask for her by name?" Xanxus inquires bitterly. Oh, so it's not just her finding that omission annoying.

"Your grandmother did," Nie drawls. "They're on the terrace outside her rooms."

"Can we go by our suite to put down our rucksacks?" Xanna asks a little plaintively. "They're heavy." Textbooks weigh a lot and despite them sharing her set, Xanxus's rucksack still feels like it's full of rocks. What else has he got in there?

"It is on the way, sort of," Xanxus chimes in.

"Very well then," Visconti agrees, glancing briefly at the magazine in a way that suggests he knows very well why they want to hide it from Don Vongola for a little longer.

* * *

Xanna thinks she could be less wary of Don Vongola if he didn't always have at least four armed men backing him up. He's bad enough by himself; the middle-aged grandpa look is a lie, he's more of an emotionally manipulative businessman, making you feel valued while deliberately underpaying you.

It's rather judgemental of her, but he made a bad initial impression and he won't stop lying. She's tempted to call him out on every single one of them, except it would be the last thing she did. Xanxus matters more to her than that.

"So, what's this I hear about you attending high school, my son?" Don Vongola asks as they arrive at the wrought-iron table that he and Xanxus' grandma are sitting at.

"You didn't say I couldn't," Xanxus retorts, folding his arms and glaring. "I'm fifth in class," he adds, daring his father to tell him the material is too advanced for him.

"And you?" Don Vongola asks, looking at Xanna.

"Twenty-fourth overall, but top of biology and third in economics," Xanna replies calmly. "I have remedial work to do in civics and need to practice my calligraphy." Francesco Cavallone has lent her his old middle school 'civic studies' workbooks as a starting point, since there very tellingly aren't any textbooks on the subject.

"I didn't tell anybody why Xanna doesn't know anything about the Vongola," Xanxus adds, just to make it clear that he knows exactly whose fault that is. "Or why she doesn't have a surname." The 'it is your fault but I can be discreet when I want to be' is almost too explicit to be subtext.

"So what is your surname, dear?" Xanxus's grandma asks.

"I have no idea," Xanna shrugs. "I can't remember my birthday either. The D'Ignoto boys in my class say that according to Vongola tradition I should be called Trovato or Donato or Incerti, or possibly even share their surname. They offered to talk to their parents about adopting me and Xanxus growled at them."

The old lady chuckled. "Ah, the D'Ignoto are all like that. So are the Esposito; charming and unconventional the lot of them."

"When I offered to send you to school when you were younger you didn't want to go," Don Vongola says to Xanxus. "You wanted to learn more challenging things. What's changed?"

Xanxus huffs. "That was four years ago! People my age are all doing boring stuff or expecting me to care about stupid shit. High school's interesting and I can do the stuff they don't teach in the afternoons, like everybody else does."

"Who is this 'everybody else'?"

Xanxus narrows his eyes at his father. "Francesco Cavallone fixes up cars and motorbikes in the afternoons, when he's not doing family shit with his father and brother. Daniela Vezzini plays piano and designs electronics. Falena Superbi breeds plants and does clay pigeon shooting; she's promised to invite me to the next training day at her range. Claudio and Piero D'Ignoto are in a band and Emanuela Bianchi does rock-climbing. Didone Notaro is on the school volleyball team and Giuseppe Riccio trains dogs with his parents."

"I'm glad you've made friends," Don Vongola says warmly, which is only half a lie because Don Vongola is both pleased and not-pleased at the same time. "However now you are in school you will have to stay for the full five years; I won't have you dropping out halfway through or failing a year because you lost interest."

"Fine." Xanxus nods, accepting his father's terms. "So until I'm fifteen, right? I can't do much of anything in the Vongola until then anyway."

"I suppose not," Don Vongola agrees with a smile, one that vanishes as he looks at her again. "What made you think this was a good idea, young lady?"

"Her name is Xanna!" Xanxus snaps. "If you want to call her something different then give her a surname and call her that!" His father ignores the outburst, gazing sternly at her.

"I recognise that neither I nor Xanxus can stop you from sending me to school," Xanna says simply, "because you are an adult with authority and power over us. But I promised Xanxus everything I can give him and he doesn't want to be separated from me, so I suggested he come with me."

"It was a foolish and risky thing to do," Don Vongola chides her. "I have enemies and Xanxus could easily be injured or killed away from the safety of the house."

Xanna blinks at him. "Is the school's security insufficient? Lots of other mafia heirs attend; Francesco Cavallone is his father's second son and Pantera Superbi is in the management track a year ahead of us." She pauses, "Or is it that the driver isn't a qualified bodyguard? Xanxus says all the cars are armoured." She will not succumb to emotional blackmail.

Xanxus' grandmother hides a smile behind her drink and one of the men behind Don Vongola coughs into his hand.

"If going to school isn't safe why did you want Xanna to go by herself?" Xanxus demands. "I'm much better at fighting than she is!"

Xanna knows _exactly_ why Don Vongola wanted to send her away to school but isn't going to tell Xanxus that. She isn't going to ruin his relationship with his possible-father just because the man doesn't trust her commitment to his son. Don Vongola clearly sees something in her face to that effect as he drops the subject entirely and asks Xanxus what he wants to do for his birthday next month, seeing as he now has friends he could invite to a party.

He won't forget this though; a grown man is unlikely to forgive a teenage girl for outmanoeuvring them and 'suborning' their child, especially when he knows she did it on purpose. He is certain he knows what is best for Xanxus and doesn't take kindly to her sabotaging his plans.

Don Vongola probably doesn't think enough of her to class her as an enemy, but she is definitely an annoyance and an obstacle now.

* * *

"Let me take you out dancing on Saturday, Xanna, come on," Francesco cajoles, elbowing her gently. "You know you want to."

"You don't want dance with me, you want to date me," Xanna retorts with a teasing smile. The cheerful Cavallone grins back.

"Of course I do; who wouldn't? You're beautiful and clever and sneaky and have excellent taste. In women."

Xanna sniggers at that not-so-subtle reference to her short experimental relationship with Falena. It was really fun, but while kissing another girl was alright, she hadn't been as into it as Falena and the older girl had noticed. So they'd split up. Xanxus still regards their relationship as a 'weird girl thing' –Xanna isn't sure he even noticed they were going on actual dates for a while rather than just hanging out together– but if she decides to date 'Cesco her little master will definitely notice.

"What, you want me to help you pick up girls?" She teases.

"I'd much rather pick you up, darling," Cesco replies, catching her hand and kissing her knuckles. "Come on, say yes."

Xanna hums, side-eying him under her eyelashes. "Where were you thinking of?" She does like Francesco Cavallone, he is fun and sweet and very responsible. She trusts him not to push her into anything she is uncomfortable with; he is also blond and nice to look at.

Cesco grins. "The Blue Midnight in Lanza territory. Good music, no drugs, barely any alcohol. I promise I'll get you home before one."

"Fine, I'll give you a chance," Xanna capitulates, rolling her eyes at his gleeful smile and letting him lean over and kiss her.

Then the table's hitting the floor with a symphony of shattering glass and Xanxus has a hand wrapped around her new boyfriend's throat, his other hand alight with a ball of shining Flames.

Xanna is on her feet in an instant and grabbing his wrist. "Xanxus, don't."

Glowing red eyes shift from Cesco to her. "He was kissing you."

"Yes, he was," Xanna agrees, still gripping Xanxus's wrist. "He asked first and I was fine with it."

The Wrath Flames snuff out and the twelve-year-old reluctantly lets go of Cesco's throat, luminous red eyes still boring into her. The look on his face is complicated.

"Look, let's take this outside," Xanna says, glancing briefly at her possibly-no-longer boyfriend then back to Xanxus, aware that they now have the attention of most of the people in the bar. It's a mafia bar, so mostly they're watching so they know when to dodge flying debris.

"Fine." Xanxus grabs her wrist and marches towards the door, other patrons quickly shifting out of his way. Cesco follows them, waving briefly to the rest of their friends so they stay in their seats; no need to ruin everybody's evening.

Once they're outside Xanna picks up speed a little and leads the way across the square to a bench, where she turns around but doesn't sit down. "Okay Xanxus, ask me."

Xanxus looks at her, face still tight and complicated. He's not much shorter than her these days and unlike her, he's still growing. "You're mine," he says.

"Yes, I am." It's the truth.

"Are you going to have sex with Cavallone?"

Going by the spluttering behind her Cesco is acutely embarrassed by that question. Too bad for him. "Do you mean today specifically or in a general sense?" She asks.

"Both," Xanxus decides, looking more confident now.

"No, I am not going to have sex with Francesco today. I may possibly have sex with Francesco at some point in the future, but I am certainly not going to have sex with Francesco any time soon," Xanna states.

"Then why were you letting him kiss you?" Xanxus looks confused now.

"Has anybody ever explained dating to you?" Xanna asks. Xanxus has a father and three older brothers, somebody had better have done it by now. Please God?

"It's what you do when you want to have sex with somebody," Xanxus replies promptly, which is superficially accurate but not at all the point.

"No, that's not dating, that's a fling and that's different," Xanna says instantly, because this needs clearing up. "Dating is a vetting process. Dating is what you do to get to know somebody better, because you _maybe_ wouldn't mind having a relationship involving sex with them _later_. But first you want to find out about them, because for most people sex is private and intimate and vulnerable, so not something you do with people you don't trust completely. So people date to find out if the other person is trustworthy." Well that is the ideal anyway.

"I might date Francesco for a year without having any sex at all," Xanna continues. "We might date for two months then decide that actually we don't want to date anymore because we want different things out of life. Dating is a trial period, where you do things with the person you find interesting and talk about anything and everything. People hold hands and kiss and snuggle because that's intimate and feels good, but isn't as vulnerable and risky as sex. So if things go wrong in the dating phase it's less of a loss, but you still made an effort." She hopes she's being coherent here. "Most people want to settle down with one person for the rest of their lives and dating is a way of looking for that person. So Cesco and I are going to date and see if we can get along, but if we don't then we haven't really lost anything." Of course most people don't actually rationalise it like that as it's an emotional thing, but she's always been an over-thinker.

"Not about sex," Xanxus concludes.

"Some people do make it about sex," Xanna concedes, "but anybody who says that sex is part of dating just wants to take advantage of you, so don't be pressured. Nothing in dating is compulsory, it's all about finding out what you and the other person are comfortable with." She is going to have to mention her ex-girlfriend now. "I dated Falena for three months."

Xanxus's eyes go very round; moments like this remind her that he is both very young and very sheltered, for all that he is not remotely ignorant of the mechanics of sex and that people want it. "Girls date other girls?"

"Yes and boys can date other boys if they want to; like I said, it's about finding out what you're comfortable with," Xanna explains. "Some people find out that actually they're not really bothered and aren't interested at all, others realise they like the kissing and such but don't want the sex, while others still think it's all fantastic and can't get enough of it."

"So you like girls and boys for kissing," Xanxus concludes, "but you don't know how you feel about sex yet."

"That's right and I am in no hurry to find out," Xanna says firmly. "I'm not sixteen yet, I have all the time in the world to find the right person for me."

"Okay." Xanxus is definitely much more relaxed about her dating now he knows what's actually going on. "Cavallone, if you hurt Xanna I will murder you."

"I knew that already," Francesco says ruefully, walking into Xanna's field of vision and rather red in the face. "Can we go back inside? I need another drink and to pay for the broken glasses."

"What time is it?" Xanna asks. They've got a fairly strict curfew since it's a school night and Xanxus is still rather young.

"It's not even eight yet, you've got another hour," Cesco tells her, offering her his hand. Xanna takes it and lets herself be towed back into the bar, Xanxus at her heels.

"I'll pay for the glasses," the twelve-year-old says firmly as they walk in the door, "I broke them."

"Thank-you," Francesco says simply, knowing better than to say 'that is very mature of you' or make other patronising comments of the kind Xanxus so despises. He smarter than that and Xanxus is not in the mood to be teased. "We'll go join the others at their table. Want another drink?"

"I can buy myself something," Xanxus says, side-eyeing them both with a tiny smirk. "Buy a drink for Xanna instead."

Cesco laughs and Xanna smiles in relief. That could have gone terribly wrong and she is tremendously relieved that it didn't.

* * *

Christmas in the Iron Fort starts with the Vongola Solstice Ball, which Xanxus isn't allowed to attend because he isn't fourteen yet. Xanxus is perfectly happy with this, having a very low opinion of the society people who attend this kind of Vongola event. The parents of most of their classmates work in the lower echelons of various Vongola Alliance businesses and while some run their own businesses, none of them are family heads, bosses or even underbosses except for Francesco's father Don Cavallone. Xanxus has met a decent number of such people –although Xanna has not– and is very eloquent on how useful he thinks most of them aren't.

Being sixteen Xanna could technically be attending the ball by herself, but Xanxus put his foot down so she isn't. Seeing as she doesn't want to attend any more than he does, she is fine with that. She and Cesco broke up nearly two months ago, so she doesn't have to attend as his date either.

Seeing as they don't have to get ready for the ball, the two of them are hiding out in Xanxus's grandma's suite with books, music and sewing silk for friendship bracelets. Xanxus really likes the patterns and technical challenges involved in designing and then creating the knotted wristbands and Xanna is happy to try out his patterns, so both of them are wearing several and everybody in their class has at least one. Currently however Xanna is on the couch reading _Dracula_ and Xanxus is sitting on the floor, leaning back against her legs with his nose in some old book from the Vongola Family Library that she's not even allowed to touch.

"Xanna?"

"Hm?" Xanna glances up from her book; Xanxus has set his own book aside and is staring at her.

"Do you have to be dating to kiss somebody?"

"Not necessarily," Xanna concedes. "There are lots of reasons to kiss somebody and because you're dating is only one of them. It also depends on the kind of kissing you mean."

Xanxus rolls his eyes at her. "I mean kissing with tongue," he says impatiently.

"That generally gets reserved for people you are dating, unless you're pretending to be dating for some reason and the kissing is part of making the cover convincing." Getting swallowed whole by the mafia has been very educational in all kinds of ways, not all of them good for her peace of mind. For instance, she has been browbeaten into learning to fight with collapsible batons so she is 'less of a liability'.

"I don't want to have to date some random girl just to find out if I like kissing," Xanxus says grumpily. "Can't I date you?"

"We can't date," Xanna replies flatly. "You are thirteen and your father would think I am taking advantage of you. I also don't actually want to date you, because to me dating is vetting people for possible sex and I am not interested in you like that."

"Because I'm thirteen," Xanxus specifies, eyes steady.

"Yes. Even discussing it like this is making me very uncomfortable," Xanna says frankly. "I am over three years older than you and while it's not a lot in the grand scheme of things, it is a lot right now and will go on being a lot for some time." Until they are both finished with puberty and are properly adult, in fact.

"Okay, no dating," Xanxus says easily. "I still want to know what the fuss is about kissing though."

Xanxus is not going to drop this; he will go on asking her until she either comes up with a reason he respects or she bows to his demand. Xanna puts her book aside, leans her head against the sofa back and sighs. What are her objections to Xanxus kissing her? He doesn't know anybody his age to experiment with, being Don Vongola's son means a lot of girls would agree to date him just for the prestige rather than out of actual interest in him as a person and he's asking her because he trusts her.

Most of her issues are to do with still seeing him as a child. But his asking this says he's not really fully a child anymore, even though he's only recently started being a teenager.

She's his friend. She can do this as his friend; she has kissed some of her other friends 'just because' before now.

"If you want to kiss me, you may kiss me," Xanna says carefully, "but I want you to not touch my front and keep your hands outside my clothing. I am going to keep my hands on the couch, because if somebody walks in on this and thinks I'm taking advantage they will probably murder me without bothering to ask any questions first."

"You couldn't overpower me if you wanted to," Xanxus says dismissively, eyes alight with curiosity as he gets to his feet and climbs onto her lap.

"No, I couldn't, but I could manipulate you," Xanna points out, shoving her hands down the back of the seat cushion and tilting her head up to keep eye-contact.

"Except you won't lie to me," Xanxus points out smugly, resting his hands on her shoulders and settling down over her thighs.

"You know that and I know that, but nobody else believes it," Xanna says dryly as he kisses her forehead, then her eyelids and the tip of her nose.

"I like kissing you," he tells her smugly, "like this anyway." More kisses are pressed to both her cheeks then along her jawbone, increasingly messy and sucking lightly on her skin. Somebody's been spying again, or possibly watching inappropriate television. His hands are cradling her face now, holding her steady as he moves closer to her mouth. Xanna's eyelids flutter and she can feel her heart rate picking up a little despite her misgivings; this may not be sexual but it is definitely sensual. Being kissed feels nice and she does trust Xanxus.

The first brush against her lips is light and chaste but he quickly presses in, tilting his head for better access and opening his mouth against her lips. Xanna reciprocates, because it's not really kissing unless it's reciprocated, opening her mouth just enough to slide her lips against his.

Xanxus makes an interested noise in his throat, moves his hands down her neck and one back up to cradle the base of her skull, his mouth still sliding and pressing against hers. He's leaning into her now and she can feel his heartbeat against her chest, like he can feel her pulse fluttering under his hand.

Xanna curses her hormones; yes she likes Xanxus but she is not physically attracted to him! The kissing is inherently enjoyable but she does not want to do anything more than that! This is teenage confusion clouding her mind!

Xanxus sucks delicately on her lower lip, scrapes his teeth over it before sucking harder, then targeting her upper lip as well. Xanna closes her jaw just enough to nibble his lower lip for a moment –turn-around is fair play– and is promptly muscled bodily into the couch back as he growls against her mouth.

Her heartbeat jumps, partly in surprise, and then Xanxus's tongue is sliding over her lips, along her gums and past her teeth to rub against her own. Reciprocating is almost automatic and Xanna has to dig her fingers into the underneath of the couch cushions to remind herself that this is Xanxus, who is thirteen, who she is never, ever going to take advantage of in any way. No matter how good it feels to be kissed by him.

He finally pulls away, breathing hard and licking his lips as his eyes shine happily. "I like kissing," he says brightly, sitting back on his heels over her thighs, "and you taste nice."

"Curiosity satisfied then," she replies, deliberately nonchalant. It's not lying. It's not. Her body is being stupid. "Anybody in mind you'd like to date?"

Xanxus pouts at her; it's cute and terrible. "I don't know anybody my age," he whines. "Everyone in class is going to have the same problem you do."

"They'd better," Xanna mutters before she can catch herself. Xanxus sticks his tongue out at her; he's definitely in a _really_ good mood to act this childish. "Falena's got a cousin your age, Nepa Superbi; she's two years below us at school, in the sports track." Superbi usually have their heads screwed on straight. "Michele Lanza's sister Sara is your age too and she's probably heard enough about your antics to not get stupid about who you're related to." Xanna stares at him flatly. "Go sneak into the school records after New Year or something. You're brilliant and you know it; use that brain of yours to your advantage."

Xanxus grins at her, slides off her lap, grabs his book and hares off who-knows-where; Xanna flops sideways along the couch and buries her face in a cushion. Why is she doing this again? Oh yes, she prayed for a sign, got Xanxus and now she's committed.

"That was really very inappropriate," says an elderly voice far too close to her ear. "You handled it relatively well though."

Xanna twitches, hugging the cushion to her face. Finding out that Xanxus's grandmother probably heard _all_ of that is too much for her right now. This is so embarrassing and not just because of the hormones that were clouding her mind just now.

"I will not mention this to my son," the Vongola matriarch continues, "but I do expect you to keep your hands off my grandson until he is at least fourteen, no matter _what_ he says. Once to satisfy his curiosity is one thing, repeatedly indulging him is quite another."

Xanna relaxes her grip on the cushion just enough to peer up at Xanxus's grandmother. "I will find other people to date until my hormones settle," she promises meekly, "but if I try to go back to sleeping in my own bed he will think I'm angry with him." Because the old lady means it when she says she wants Xanna to keep her hands to herself.

"I will tell him I overheard and am punishing you both, so a week of sleeping alone," Signora Vongola says implacably. "Him for coercing you into it and you because you know better yet went along with him anyway."

"Sorry Signora." Xanna really is sorry; she hadn't realised what Xanxus was doing counted as coercion but now she will be on the lookout for it and can call him out if he tries it again.

A wrinkled hand strokes her cheek. "You're a good girl Xanna, not like my naughty grandson," Signora Vongola tells her gently. "I'm not angry with you. You just need to realise that you give Xanxus a lot of power over you and now he's a teenager he's going to start trying to push you further. I expect you to push back; letting him turn into an entitled horror will do nobody any good."

Xanna had not considered that. "We're going to hurt each-other," she predicts gloomily over the edge of her cushion.

"Of course you will; life is like that," the old lady says matter-of-factly, patting her hair. "But nowhere near as badly as you would if you indulged his adolescent foolishness against your better judgement. You've done a lot for him already, so I'm sure you are up to the challenge."

Well, at least somebody is confident.

* * *

It's Christmastime and Xanxus is avoiding her. He's been avoiding her since the day before the ball; since being told by his grandmother that talking her into kissing him was coercion. He's gone before she gets out of the shower in the mornings –the first day she was in the corridor when he was coming out of the bathroom and he instantly locked himself back in for half an hour, so she doesn't get up until after he's back in his room now– although neither of them is sleeping at all well. Xanna's heard him going for drinks in the middle of the night; she's just so used to his presence beside her that she can't sleep properly alone now. Her cuddly dog toy is a very poor substitute.

It's the holidays so he can get away with avoiding her, although it makes family mealtimes intensely awkward as she's expected to sit next to him at those and he won't look at her. Don Vongola would probably suspect her of something heinous had his mother not told everybody that she caught Xanxus coercing Xanna –into what was not specified– and that they are both being punished.

Xanna is more upset by the continued avoidance than she was by the coercion. Xanxus is brilliant, sneaky and fully confident in his authority over her; she now realises something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. His refusal to so much as look her in the eye, let alone speak to her, is however intensely distressing. That he is more guilty than angry over getting caught out does not exactly help. A guilty Xanxus is pitiful-looking and somehow smaller than usual and that's just so wrong considering his usual temperament.

Christmas week is quiet in the Iron Fort; most of the staff goes home on Christmas Eve and doesn't come back until after St Stephen's day and everybody else who works or lives here does too, some of them not coming back until after New Year. It means there're a lot more places for Xanxus to hide in than usual. Xanna's tempted to go looking for him, but has a feeling that would distress him more than just leaving him alone.

Or at least that's what she thought on Christmas Eve; waking up on Christmas morning to find Xanxus has vanished with all his presents rather than waking her up so they can open them together is acutely painful and makes her want to go back to bed and cry. She doesn't though; enough is enough. So she loads her still-wrapped presents into her school rucksack, dresses quickly and goes looking for her idiot.

She finds Enrico first. He doesn't like her much but he's mostly resigned to her by now.

"Oh, it's you," he says, sipping his coffee as the two of his Guardians not visiting relatives eat their breakfast. "What do you want?"

"Have you seen Xan?" Xanna asks, squaring her shoulders.

Enrico eyeballs her thoughtfully. "Maybe not _seen_ ," he concedes, "but I sensed him going past about half an hour ago, heading for the stables. Are you crashing his pity party?"

"I am going to get him back to his usual angry self if it kills me," Xanna says firmly. "Thanks."

"Have fun with that!" the eldest Vongola brother calls after her as she leaves the room and hurries down the hall towards the stables.

The stables are past the garages and the only place on the grounds –other than the kitchens– where staff are still hanging around at Christmas, as the horses need feeding just as much as the various Vongola and their Guardians do. The stable hands take it in turns to work Christmas and this year it's supposed to be Guido and Pietro staying on. Except that's Pietro lying just inside the doorway with his throat slit and the emergency alarm has clearly been sabotaged.

Xanna very carefully retreats back around the corner, removes her rucksack and dashes into the garages to pull the alarm there, then heads outside despite the bitter morning chill and lingering gloom. If this is an abduction then they might have left already, so she needs to find the trail.

There isn't a trail, but a muffled crash coming from the upper floor tells her exactly where Xanxus is so she shimmies up the wall and unhooks the upper shutters so she can eel her way inside. Part of living in the Iron Fort and being Xanxus's 'liability' means knowing how to get into and out of everywhere.

Guido is clearly not as loyal and he might be and has brought friends; they've got Xanxus cornered in the hayloft, which he's obviously reluctant to light on fire since it would set the whole building ablaze and possibly the main house as well. Xanna is unarmed but that doesn't make her incapable of doing harm, not even when faced with strong men twice her weight.

Throats are all equally vulnerable and she has sharp teeth; she only has to last as long as it takes for people to respond to the alarm and if she is distracting enough Xanxus might be able to escape. Xanxus is more important to her than any of these people who want to hurt him.

She goes for Guido first, sidling along the beam above the group and then dropping forwards on his head, curling herself over his shoulder as he struggles and sinking her teeth into either side of his trachea. Ripping it out is made easier by one of his friends yanking her off him; spitting out the bloody nub of flesh she twists in the stranger's grasp and goes for his throat too, missing the trachea but managing to rip open his carotid artery. It incredibly messy and very loud; once thrown to the floor she tries to blink the blood from her eyes while looking around for persons three and four but one of them gets her first and she feels the dart hit her in the arm.

The world goes wonky. Like inside her head is wonky. Oh, is she dreaming then? Neat; it's easier to rescue Xanxus if she's dreaming, she just has to get up and rip that person's throat out with her claws. And charge the zombie with the gun who thinks shooting her is going to do anything; bullets barely hurt at all in dreams because in dreams nothing really hurts. Being helpless and hurting would make this a nightmare and it isn't.

There are more zombies; two of them have dampened Xanxus's fire and are carrying him off down a forest path into scarlet screaming, so she sprouts bladed wings and gives chase. They underestimate her reach and fall part quickly; she stamps on their heads so they don't get up again.

Xanxus isn't moving. Why isn't he moving? He should be moving. He's always moving. Maybe it's the cuffs on his wrists? Those come off easily under her claws, although even being careful she scratches his wrists. The forest is all tentacles now and there is purple everywhere, but waking up Xanxus is more important. He needs to be okay.

Maybe he's sleeping? She picks him up and cuddles him. He's all sluggish on the inside, maybe she should poke him. But not with a claw; she uses her nose instead. He twitches, so that clearly worked. She does it again and this time he responds properly and sets himself on fire.

It's angry fire but that's okay, because Xanxus has never hurt her even when he's angry. He doesn't hurt her now, in fact he stops being angry almost as soon as he began and wriggles, kicking her shins and meowing.

The meowing is new. So are the kitty ears and the thrashing tail. Everything is sparkly now rather than being tentacle-flavoured purple, but the sparkles make her dizzy and she falls over. She remembers not to fall on Xanxus though, so he lands on top of her, ears flat against his skull. She's tired. Flying is exhausting and she hasn't had breakfast yet.

Now she is somewhere white and crowded and somebody is taking Xanxus away. That's not allowed, he's hers, so she soars over the bees and kicks the jackdaws away.

"Xanna!" Oh he's talking now, that's good. The meowing was a bit confusing.

"Mine," she tells him severely. "No leaving me behind."

He gapes like a goldfish and moths flutter out of his mouth; that can't be healthy. "I'm sorry! Are you okay?" Why is he asking that? She isn't the one who almost got snuffed out.

"Stop running away," she tells him, poking him in the chest and rustling her wings. "How can I look after you if I can't keep up?"

He laughs, sprouting brown fur and spots as his tongue hangs out of his mouth and his eyes roll. "I promise not to run away from you anymore."

"Thank-you." Graciousness in victory is important. She is tired; where'd her nest go?

"We can lie down over there," her hyena says, pointing over to the twisty thicket she just emerged from. Xanna is dubious; it wasn't very safe over there. "Over here then?" he offers, twisting into a tabby kitten and making big hopeful eyes at her as he waves a paw at a little grove of steel with fewer vines.

That looks nice. She carries him over to it and curls up on top of it, folding her wings over both of them and closing her eyes.

* * *

Xanna wakes up with a thumping headache, body feeling like she's been trampled and the inside of her mouth tasting like week-old fish. It's also really bright; she screws up her eyes and rolls over so she can bury her face in Xanxus's chest.

"Ah, welcome back," says a dry and vaguely familiar voice; oh, it's one of the medical people. It's Christmas though, he shouldn't be here. "You had a very interesting drug reaction so Don Vongola called me in to make sure you didn't die."

Xanxus growls at the mention of her possible demise and Xanna remembers that they're not supposed to be sleeping together this week. Rolling off him again is however not possible because he's got a death-grip on both her shoulders.

"What happened?" She croaks, because the last thing she remembers is… a murdered stable hand, finding Xanxus being attacked and deliberately using her self-defence training to kill people. It's all blurry and confused after that. She's also not entirely sure why she went straight to homicide without passing 'Go' or attempting something more subtle.

"There was an abduction attempt and you were hit with a combined tranquiliser and Flame-suppressor," the doctor says briskly, handing her a glass of water, "except that it turns out the tranquiliser was laced with a hallucinogen and the Flame-suppressor acted on your system like a stimulant due to you having an odd metabolic reaction, so you were staggering around hallucinating for a few minutes before the sedative finally overrode it. You also went Flame-Active, but that may have been more to do with the nature of the situation than the drugs in your system."

"I don't remember setting myself on fire," Xanna says bemusedly after drinking half the glass. "Just…" Colours. Flying. Writhing and mutating scenery. Zombies. Xanxus with stripes and cat ears. "…lots of weirdness."

"You had wings made of Flames," Xanxus says quietly in her ear. "They had circuits on them."

What? Like the theoretical Flame-buffering exercises that she's been playing with based on Xanxus's explorations into Flame Tech? "Did they work?"

Xanxus makes a frustrated and incredulous noise. " _That's_ what you're asking?"

"Well the abduction clearly failed," Xanna says practically, "and you're talking to me again so I'm not really bothered about the rest." She pauses. "I'd like my Christmas presents back though; I left them outside the stables when I found Pietro and I haven't even unwrapped them yet."

Xanxus stiffens and turns his face into her hair. He doesn't let go or push her away though.

"Well, you're not going to die," the doctor says, "either from the drug reaction or from Flame exhaustion. However you will be staying right here for the rest of the day and eating as much as you can. You need it." On cue, Xanna's stomach growls. "I will have some lunch sent over." He leaves the room.

"Xanxus, what's wrong?" Xanna asks immediately.

"I made you do something you didn't want to do even though you told me you didn't want to do it," Xanxus blurts out. "Do you hate me now?"

Xanna tilts her head up, resting her chin on her not-so-little master's sternum. "Don't be stupid. You made a mistake; everybody makes mistakes. I forgave you right away. You avoiding me all week hurt more. Especially waking up this morning to find you'd run off with your presents." She feels tears welling up; she must be really worn out for her emotions to be this close to the surface. "You promised I was yours, you're not allowed to abandon me and break that promise." Some of the tears escape and she sniffs, not wanting to actually cry right now.

Xanxus looks stricken; he feels stricken too, like there's a whirlpool inside his chest. "I, I didn't want," he stammers. Xanna pokes him in the ribs.

"Apologise."

"I am very sorry for coercing you. And for not talking to you afterwards. And making you kill people," Xanxus mumbles miserably.

"You didn't make me kill anybody," Xanna says firmly, "I chose to do that all by myself. It was a stupid decision but it was still mine so you can't take the credit. And I don't want you to ever avoid me like that again. Shouting and wailing and acute embarrassment are less hurtful than silence so you need to be brave and face things."

"Are you calling me a coward?"

"Yes," Xanna says flatly. "Not talking to me was cowardly. Facing up to your mistakes and apologising takes courage and is admirable. Denial and avoidance is pathetic and beneath you."

Xanxus glares at her, clearly understanding exactly what she means but still infuriated at her for calling him out on it. "Fine, I won't do it again," he grumbles eventually, letting go of her to flop back on the pillows and throw an arm over his eyes.

Xanna leaves him to his face-saving nap; the door has just opened and there is food to be had.

* * *

By Easter Xanna sincerely wishes she'd never Activated her Flames, because the sheer pressure on her to conform to the Vongola's stereotypes is painful, infuriating and probably going to drive her to grievous body harm if not outright murder. Yes, it's vaguely gratifying to finally have her relationship with Xanxus validated and be recognised as his Guardian – separating them is no longer something Don Vongola is mentioning as an option– but far more trying is the blatant indoctrination they are trying to shove down her throat.

According to Vongola tradition, the role of the Lightning Guardian is to take the damage directed towards the family upon themselves like a lightning rod. Which is just a prettied-up way of saying that Xanna is supposed to throw herself in front of Xanxus in a fight and die; Xanna refuses to do that. Xanxus is better in a fight that she is, so getting in his way is stupid and short-sighted. She also refuses to die for him; how can she look after him if she's dead? Dying means getting left behind and she will not. She is his support system, not his shield: her job is to _live_ for him.

She has had countless screaming matches and messy, painful fights with four different tutors already and might actually have died once if Xanxus hadn't crashed the session and set that particular tutor on fire. Since then he's stubbornly attended every single one of her lessons he possibly can and taken her side in all of the shouting matches, both with her tutors and with his father for picking them. There have been no deaths yet but it's been a near thing.

All this stress at home is affecting their school performance as well, as Xanna can't always get her homework done around her 'training' –beatings– and Xanxus is even more ferociously possessive of her than ever so often doesn't get his own work done because he's hovering. Since she has twice been ambushed by her so-called tutors in his absence she can't bring herself to tell him to stop; she hasn't actually been taught anything yet –not even given instructions on how to use her Flames– and the only thing she's learned is how to take a beating without getting half her long bones cracked every time, which is a product of trial, error and desperation.

This really can't go on.

Ten days later and forty-five minutes after being introduced to the fifth tutor Don Vongola has hired, Xanna snaps.

"Look, you can't stand me and want me dead, that's fine, I've been living with that since I was thirteen, but can you stop trying to destroy my soul, please!"

Don Vongola looks pained, which might be due to the meeting room door she's just shredded or the fresh blood spattered all over her. "I do not want you dead, Xanna," he says quietly. He even thinks it's the truth.

She makes a high, frustrated sound in her throat. "You want me away from your son, who is my Sky, my reason for living and the only person in the entire world I consider family. Being away from him would kill me, therefore you want me dead. Pretty it up with fancy words and look away from the consequences all you like, it won't change the truth." She takes a quick, harsh breath, "and you hired a _rapist_ to tutor me. Go fuck yourself. I'll handle my own education."

"What happened to him?" the man the Don is meeting with asks laconically, eyeing her with interest. It's probably the wing-like fans of Flame-blades hovering behind her shoulders that have caught his interest; according to Xanxus her idiosyncratic Flame manifestation is unprecedented and possibly related to her being a somewhat Misty Lightning.

"My Will to live was stronger than his," Xanna says flatly, "which does not surprise me in retrospect, because all of my ex-tutors have insisted that the only Will a _proper_ Lightning is allowed to have is the Will to die. I will not die for my Sky; I will _live_ for him and I will _not_ be taken from him!"

The stranger nods acceptingly. "Looking for a job, sprite?"

"I'm a Guardian, I've got one." She does at least get a proper allowance now, rather than having to let Xanxus buy everything for her. Admittedly his budget is stupidly generous, but it's still nice to be able to buy things without asking him first.

"Second job? Part-time freelancing on the side?" Is he serious?

"Tyr, please."

Xanna ignores Don Vongola and tries to remember where she's heard that name before. "As what?"

Tyr smiles very slightly. "I'm Head of the Varia, sprite."

Oh; assassination. "Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent," Xanna quotes, sticking her nose in the air and folding her arms. Yes, she is covered in blood but she was defending herself _from_ violence, not randomly attacking somebody. The assassin laughs at her, but it's a genuinely amused laugh.

"Asimov," he agrees. "Still a market for it, sprite: lots of incompetents out there willing to pay for quality service."

"I'm more into the continuation of war by other means," Xanna banters back. "It's less expensive."

"Diplomacy, the patriotic art of lying for one's country," Tyr responds with a smile, "or in your case, for your Sky."

"I'm crap at lying, so I generally resort to the tactical deployment of truth and honesty," Xanna replies, smiling almost despite herself. This man is a killer and a snake but he's smart and he actually sees her. It's a nice change from most of the adults she has to put up with. "It's very effective when you're the only person doing it."

"Sure you don't need a job, sprite?"

"I…" Xanna pauses. Well, Xanxus _does_ have a lot of money on hand and she also gets paid a decent amount… "Do you have any sneaky Lightnings working for you who are actually capable of teaching?"

"Xanna!"

She turns snake-quick and glares at the Don. "You hired four brutes and a rapist, not one of whom has taught me anything. You do not get a say. At least the Varia have standards."

"Several," Tyr drawls, eyes alight with amusement. "I'll send the Lightning Officer over to discuss particulars with you and your Sky."

"Thank-you."

"You're very welcome, sprite," the assassin tells her easily with a wicked smirk. "I look forward to hearing from you."

Xanna smiles back, glares at Don Vongola one last time and marches off to find Xanxus. Hiring an assassin to teach her to use her Flames is probably excessive, but at least they will be working for her and Xanxus rather than for Don Vongola. They will probably have skills she can use, too; she is better suited to a supporting role when it comes to an actual fight but it is the everyday utility applications of her Flames that interest her the most. The Varia are infamous for achieving the impossible and unlikely, so she should at least get a sympathetic ear and some assistance with the technicalities of her experiments.

First though she needs to get somewhere safe so she can break down and cry properly. She's known for a while that Don Vongola doesn't much care for her, but that he cares so little as this hurts. Doesn't he realise that hurting her will also hurt Xanxus?

* * *

It's nearly a full year since the experimental kissing session that lead to Xanna becoming Flame Active and in that time Xanxus has gone through four girlfriends, the last of whom dumped him just three weeks ago for the heinous crime of not wanting to take her to the Vongola Winter Solstice Ball. This leaves her teenage master –who is now exactly four centimetres taller than her and incredibly proud of it– without a date for said occasion. Considering the ball is a compulsory 'plus one' event, that really won't do.

"Can't you be my date?" Xanxus asks, kneeling behind her on the bed and fingers busily styling her hair to match the complex design in the magazine lying next to him.

"If I come as your date I would have to wear a gown and heels," Xanna points out. "If I'm attending as your Guardian I can get away with wearing a suit." She has never been a fan of skirts and three months of abuse at the hands of so-called tutors followed by another seven of pseudo-Varia training personally supervised by the now-retired Lightning Officer have turned that initial dislike into a strong aversion. Skirts are just not practical and she is Xanxus's only Guardian; maybe once he has more she will feel comfortable dressing vulnerably, but until then she would prefer not to.

"So who do I ask?" Xanxus mumbles, half to himself. "Nepa laughed in my face when I asked her, Sara's dating somebody else, Maddalena's going to Canada for Christmas to visit second cousins, nobody else with a brain is single and I'm not taking a stranger or a liability to that snake pit."

"Ask Falena," Xanna suggests.

Xanxus pokes her scalp. "You know she doesn't date guys."

"Make it a business arrangement: she gets to network and scandalise everybody by flirting with the pretty ladies, you get to show off your 'close relationship with the Superbi' and scandalise everybody by wearing eyeliner, I get to wear a suit and confuse everything further by being completely fine with you two flirting with each-other, me and every other woman in the building. We make the Vongola upper ranks think you're manly enough to seduce lesbians and get away with sleeping with multiple women at once, because stupid old men think getting lots of sex is a sign of personal quality and will therefore take you more seriously. Then once you've got a platform you can move onto consolidating your position and proving you are in fact competent, intelligent, ruthless and charismatic enough to run the family circus," Xanna suggests. That is what Xanxus wants, to run the Vongola after his father, and while she suspects Don Vongola is no more her Sky's father than the man is hers, she has no proof. No lies have been told in her presence and Don Vongola truly considers Xanxus to be his child in every way that matters to him.

"Nice plan, very evil," her Sky commends ironically, patting her neck.

"Thank-you, I try."

"Your angle?" He asks, proving that he is always going to be able to read her like a book.

"Watching your father and brothers' heads explode," Xanna says promptly, "and seeing your grandmother laugh herself sick."

There is a snort from behind her. "Sold."

* * *

"Boss! Stop!"

Xanxus stills, knee jammed in his victim's spine and a fistful of Wrath poised right over the man's neck. "Why?" It's a vicious snarl. He doesn't say that the idiot on the ground slandered her, she was there for that and the aspersions cast on Xanxus's background. In fact Xanna's pretty sure he only stopped because she just called him 'boss' rather than by name.

"If he's dead he'll stop suffering and people will forget," she says bluntly. "Then you'll have to deal with this shit all over again. Maim him and let him live on the other hand…" she trails off and watches cruel glee ignite in her Sky's eyes. On the ground the idiot who thought he could get away with suggesting her body was for sale –and going cheap– whimpers.

"My Lightning always has the best ideas," Xanxus purrs, the Flames around his hand attenuating slightly as he flexes his fingers. "I am going to make you _wish_ I'd killed you for this."

Xanna turns her back and walks out of the alleyway Xanxus dragged his victim into a few seconds ago, tuning out the screams and calling up a handy little Flame trick to deaden sound. Learning from a Varia tutor has dramatically expanded her Flame repertoire, if in ways that are disturbing for her peace of mind at times considering what he thought she needed to master as basic skills. Nothing to hear, nothing to see; condoning torture is not at all Christian of her but pragmatically, the idiot will get to live and might even learn something from the experience. It might also dissuade other idiots from making similar insinuations, which will mean fewer deaths in the long run.

The main problem with Xanxus competing with his older brothers for the heir position is that he is blatantly more brilliant, competent and charismatic than they are despite being half their age or less. He's in his last year of high school despite being only fourteen, is top of his class and both well-known and well-thought-of by almost everybody who has so much as met him in passing on Academy grounds, which includes all the parents. Xanxus is naturally compelling; adding on four years of diplomatic training and extensive social networking makes him well-informed and dangerously irresistible.

Thing is, a lot of dumb young men find that kind of natural charisma threatening, especially in a teenager several years younger than them, so they run their mouths spouting lies to make themselves feel better about being outclassed. Suddenly a whole lot more people care that Xanxus's mother was a prostitute and feel entitled to make assumptions about Xanna's relationship with him. Nobody in their class of course –they know better– but still an annoyingly large number of gossipy twits.

Hopefully clear evidence of horrific reprisals will persuade everybody to keep their scurrilous speculation to themselves.

* * *

Xanna isn't that bothered about wearing makeup to school; she sees it as a mask, something to hide behind and the people at school know her and either like or dislike her on her own merits, so why does she need to hide? Xanxus doesn't share her views though. To him makeup and accessorising is a combination of self-expression and public communication, a way to make sure everybody knows how he's feeling on any given day so they don't overstep and try his patience. Everybody in school has long since got used to this, so they now all look at her to see what kind of mood her Sky is in. It's different when it's just them hanging out at home or out and about, but at school or at Vongola events her makeup is very expressive.

On a normal day when Xanxus is focused on learning Xanna can get away with plain eyeliner, a smidge of eye-shadow and clear lip gloss; her hair will be in a simple ponytail or a clip and she'll be wearing ankle boots. On a happy day when he's feeling bright and confident Xanxus will do something more time-consuming to her hair, styling it so it bounces and curls loosely to soften her face and will paint her skin with gentle blended colours to make her look sweet and approachable. He might even let her get away with wearing her pink sneakers to school rather than insist on sandals or a pair of low heels.

Today is however an angry day, so Xanxus has pulled her hair back in a pair of tight French braids flat against her scalp and is painting her eyes and lips with harsh colours and sharp lines. Steel-toed boots have been taken off the shoe rack, he's got feathers pinned in his own hair and is wearing slightly more eyeliner than he usually bothers with; Xanxus is clearly still brooding over yesterday's fight and will probably go on doing so for a while.

After finishing her makeup and pocketing the lipstick so he can touch up her mouth later Xanxus throws on a battered leather jacket, which tells Xanna that he's really _very_ angry and wanting to embarrass his father by bending the school dress-code. The only way this could be worse would be if he was wearing lipstick himself, but things are thankfully not quite that volatile; lipstick at school is Xanxus's way of telling his father to go fuck himself. It might be a good idea to see about going to somebody else's house after school though; that way Xanxus can simmer down a bit and do homework well away from Don Vongola.

Lacing up her boots, Xanna grabs her uniform jacket and rucksack and follows her Sky out to the car.

Xanxus usually sits on the outside of their paired desks, letting her have the wall and window, but on days like this he takes that seat –although technically they are not supposed to swap desks– and glowers silently into space rather than looking at the teacher and participating in class discussion. There were few explosions in the early years when unobservant adults failed to read the signs and tried to get him to participate regardless, but by now everybody knows better and just lets him get on with it. He takes notes, he listens, he does the work; poking the grumpy Wrath-user when he's in a snit won't improve matters.

"Hey you two, want to come over for lunch?" Cesco asks, twisting around in his seat the instant the teacher leaves at the end of the first lesson. "I've got some more parts for my car and dad's had people set up the machines to make the bits I need to shape myself. I wheedled him into getting that etching stuff you said was best too," he adds, looking at Xanxus, "so can you check it over and look at my designs to make sure I haven't made any dumb mistakes? You're way better with Flame Tech than I am and I don't want to blow up my baby."

Xanxus snorts, but it's an acquiescing sort of snort rather than a 'piss off and die' one. He really is completely brilliant with Flame Tech –the circuitry she manifests on her Flame-wings is partly his design– and is currently working on modifying the design of his great-grandfather's Flame guns to accommodate both higher levels of charge and Wrath Flames. It's slow-going though, as nobody's ever made anything to process Wrath before so he has to work everything out from scratch. Wrath is rare enough that nobody ever saw the need or had the ability.

Maybe he blew up his workshop again and Don Vongola tried to lecture him on safety? That would certainly annoy Xanxus enough to prompt this particular response.

"Neat; I'm having trouble with the doors," Cesco admits with a grin. "Moving parts are a nightmare."

"Only for sloppy trash who half-ass everything," Xanxus drawls, glancing at Francesco before dismissively shifting his gaze away again.

"That hurts you know, right here," the burly blond says mournfully, clutching at his heart. "Don't you love me anymore?"

Xanxus snorts again and deliberately turns his head to look out of the window, but there's a twitch in his cheek that says he's making an effort not to smirk.

"I'll just go die in a ditch then, shall I?" Cesco mumbles quietly, turning back around as the next teacher walks in.

"Only if you promise to leave Xanxus your precious," Xanna retorts softly, making Cesco stiffen in mock-outrage and prompting Xanxus to elbow her. She knows he likes that car; Cesco's a Sky too and actually very good at engineering, so he and Xanxus have had a lot of fun in the past few weeks arguing over how to rebuild the Cavallone's latest fixer-upper in a way that can be weaponised.

Come lunchtime Xanxus tells the driver who came to fetch them that they're 'leaving with Cavallone' so he departs without them, then they all get into the back of the limousine Francesco's father sent for him and set off. The Cavallone run the entire northwest coast of Sicily between Castellamare del Golfo and Palermo, so it's a bit further to where Francesco lives then going back to the Iron Fort would be.

They're stopped at a traffic light about half-way there when the driver and escort are shot repeatedly in the head through the open windows and two men reach in and open the doors, dragging the bodies out into the road and leaping inside; it's all over in seconds. Cesco instantly tries the door, but somebody in the front has hit the locks and they're trapped. Definitely a major design flaw in the manufacturing stage; those in the back can't leave the vehicle unless the lock is disengaged at the front. Xanna pops both her seatbelt and Xanxus's and throws them both to the floor before either man notices they've picked up a few extra hostages.

There's a bulletproof glass partition between the front of the limo and the passenger seats, most of it tinted with a clear upper section so the driver can use the rear-view mirror; it's splattered with blood now but it means neither man notices the extra two occupants as they speed off when the lights change.

"I can cut us out of the car," she whispers as the carjackers pick up speed and turn off the main road and away from Cavallone territory, "but at this speed it's going to be messy."

"Dad sends separate cars for me and my little brother," Francesco says tightly, "and they always stay within visual range of each-other. Our men will already be alerting Dad of what happened and giving chase." The vehicle lurches around a corner and they all brace themselves so as not to go flying. "At this rate those morons are going to drive us off a cliff first though."

"Do it," Xanxus says sharply.

"Right." Xanna crouches down in the middle of the wide foot well, bending over the central seat and bracing her hands by grabbing hold of the seatbelt buckles. Xanxus clambers onto the seat to her left and belts himself back in, eyes luminous with fury as Francesco pulls his feet in as close as he can. "Three, two, one–"

She calls on her Will and the Flame wings manifest, blades punching out of the roof, floor and doors and severing fuel lines, brake cables and rear-wheel steering as they screech through the metal. The driver notices instantly but nobody is in control of the car now; they lurch around another bend, clip a signpost, scrape along the barrier and fishtail across the road before the car finally snaps in two and the rear half careers across the road again and back into the barrier with a scream of tortured metal, almost ripping it right out of the ground and spilling them down the hillside. Xanna winces at the impact, then again as she realises there's blood dripping down her friend's unconscious face and the bulletproof window on his side is cracked and bloody.

It's been barely ten seconds since she started cutting the limo in half.

Xanxus pops his seatbelt and leans over to feel for the older boy's pulse. "Not dead yet," he says shortly. "Stay with him." Xanna nods and briefly furls her left wing so Xanxus can leave the wreckage. Her Sky does so, hands igniting as he stalks on down the road towards the front half of the limousine, which has slammed into a vertical rock face about twenty metres away.

Carefully stepping back and taking care to keep her wings wide enough to protect the both of them from potential flying bullets, Xanna moves closer to Francesco and quickly checks him for damage. Broken collarbone from the impact; Xanxus probably cracked his too, not that he'd let it show. A bloody bruise on his temple, probably from hitting the window when they were careering all over the place, and–

Oh. Oh no. Cesco wasn't bracing properly against the floor like Xanxus was when she started cutting! Xanna snatches at her tie, fumbles the knot loose and tugs off the remains of his shoe so she can tie a tourniquet around what's left of his ankle and hopefully stop the blood loss before it kills him. "Xanxus is right, you half-ass everything," she growls furiously as she pulls tight. "Don't you dare die on me, dumbass!"

Being unconscious and possibly concussed, Francesco doesn't answer her. Xanna swears some more and hopes the promised back-up arrives soon. Xanxus will make short work of their would-be abductors but his medical knowledge is no better than hers.

* * *

"You clumsy short-sighted shit the hell did you do that for!"

"I didn't know that would happen!" Francesco protests, hands waving wildly. Xanxus glares at the older boy in the hospital bed, one fist propped on his hip and the other hand pointing a jabbing finger.

"We were in a fucking moving vehicle and I ordered Xanna to trash it! Of course we were going to lose speed and get thrown all over the place! It's fucking obvious! I didn't think I needed to tell you to brace for impact, you moron!"

Xanxus had very firmly taken complete responsibility for Francesco's maiming when the Cavallone men showed up, which nobody questioned because 'everybody knew' Lightnings always did as they were told. Xanna isn't sure how she feels about that. One the one hand her friend has lost most of his foot and is probably going to have the rest amputated to make it easier to fit a prosthetic to his ankle; on the other she would much rather not deal with people blaming her for that. She told both boys what she was going to do and that Francesco didn't take things seriously is not her fault. His inability to react sensibly in serious situations is one of the reasons they broke up way back.

"I'm sorry!" Francesco shouts back. "I was shit-scared, okay! I thought we were going to die or worse! I wasn't thinking straight!"

"Damn right you weren't!" Xanxus roars back. "The hell would you have done if we hadn't been there, trash?"

Francesco snorts bitterly. "Died, probably," he admits shortly, all the fight going out of him. "I, I was never trained for that. I'm the second son, the spare. Vincenzo's the Heir."

Xanxus kicks the bed. "Don't give me that shit; Dad trained all of us!"

"Yeah, but you're Vongola; you rule by strength as well as by blood," Cesco says sharply. "My dad just trained Enzo and since he's good at it, doesn't see the need to bother with me or Dino when he's already decided who's going to be the next Don Cavallone."

"Your dad's fucking useless," Xanxus tells him flatly. "Demand training; if he says no let me know and I'll lean on my dad for you."

"Thanks Xanxus," the eighteen-year-old says quietly. "I'll make sure Dino gets included too; I don't want my little brother getting murdered because he didn't know how to escape."

"Dino's the one with dyspraxia, isn't he?" Xanna asks. She's seen Cesco's baby brother trip over nothing and fall flat on his face trying to run into his older sibling's arms; the only reason he's not horrendously bullied for his clumsiness is that the Cavallone are powerful and influential enough for his classmates' parents to make sure their children leave him alone. He's obviously rather isolated though.

"Dis-what?" Her friend asks. Xanna stares at him.

"Dyspraxia; also known as 'developmental coordination disorder', about five percent of school-age children have it –mostly boys– affects both gross and fine motor control as well as memory? Basically the brain can't communicate properly with the body. Your brother is textbook." There are all kinds of interesting books in the library near the school; that particular one had been on neurological disorders. Admittedly she'd only cracked it in the first place because she wanted to find out when the various neurodivergencies she remembered being culturally acceptable became classed as 'conditions' rather than 'pathologies' but it still counted.

"That's a thing?" Francesco looks horrified. "I thought he was just clumsy!"

"He is 'just clumsy'," Xanna says dryly, "but I think you mean, 'we thought he just doesn't pay attention' when you say that."

Her friend buries his face in his hands. "Fuck. What do I do?"

"Tell your dad it's a thing, get him to pay for a trip to a fancy paediatrician for your brother and let the doctors pin it down properly, then do whatever they're recommending for therapy and mitigation strategies that Dino is comfortable with," Xanna says unsympathetically. "Attention, patience and understanding will help him work around it and be happy regardless; knowing it's not his fault will help. Becoming Flame Active might also help, but on the other hand it might make it worse depending on his Flame-type and how he's taught. He needs patient teachers so he can be calm and train his brain and body to do what he wants them to."

"Is it fixable?" Xanxus asks. Xanna shrugs.

"Not conventionally. I doubt Don Cavallone wants to put his youngest through experimental Flame-therapy on the off-chance it might maybe work, if there's even a neurology specialist in the Alliance to do it."

"Well at least he's never going to have to try and be Don Cavallone," her friend mumbles, running his hands through his hair. "Hell, I'm glad _I_ don't have to deal with that and I was even before coming up a foot short."

"Lazy trash," Xanxus drawls.

"Excuse you, I am not lazy! I just don't want to run a mafia family!" Cesco grumbled. "It's a nightmare and you, my crazy friend, are welcome to it! I'd rather do something where my success is not dependant on a few thousand other people somehow managing to not be total morons!"

Xanna giggles at this indictment and even Xanxus smirks. "Let me know when they let you out," the fourteen-year-old says, changing the subject, "and I'll show you what I've come up with for the car."

"Come up with?" her friend asks suspiciously. "Xanxus, did you steal my drawings?"

"Would I do that?"

"Yes you would. Give them back!"

"They're shit. I can do better."

"That's not the point!"

"You're welcome," Xanxus drawls, walking out of the room and leaving the older teenager to fume; Xanna gives her irate friend a quick hug before hurrying after her Sky. That was pretty mean of Xanxus but at least now Francesco will be motivated to get out of that bed…

* * *

Graduating would probably have felt more like a celebration had Francesco's older brother not got himself killed in a riding accident in the fortnight between them taking the exams and getting the results; both Xanxus and Xanna attend the funeral. A week later their friend shows up at the Iron Fort, limping and mostly naked but utterly furious.

"My esteemed father," he growls, flopping onto the sofa in their suite after slamming the door, "has decided that I need 'toughening up' now I'm Heir; possibly because he's still on bed rest after his surgery and the doctors aren't sure he's going to recover. And he's borrowed your father's pet hitman to do it." Don Cavallone is recovering from cancer, or is at least trying to. Success is not guaranteed.

"The Arcobaleno?" Xanxus asks, glancing up from his drawing board.

"Yes and his fucking _strategy_ is to shoot me with Dying Will bullets!" Francesco shouts, throwing up his hands. "Admittedly that is what got me up here, as my dying regret was not getting a chance to tell you about this farce, but still! He shot me! In the head! I fucking _died_!"

"Why are you in your underwear?" Xanna asks, perfectly reasonably. She knows a lot about those bullets from Xanxus's projects and they don't do this.

"Custom modification," Xanxus explains succinctly with a smirk. "Don't get hit."

"Thank-you for that, I'm raiding your wardrobe," Cesco replies grumpily, levering himself off the couch and limping deeper into the suite. "You're at least tall enough for me to do that now."

Xanxus is actually slightly taller than Francesco despite being more than four years younger, which is vaguely amusing to Xanna. Her Sky is very tall, much taller than his father and even has a good five centimetres on Massimo, who is next tallest of the Vongola brothers. He hasn't stopped growing yet either; he looks a lot like his brothers around the face, Federico in particular, but is much taller and leaner than any of them. Enrico looks taller and slimmer than he actually is but that is due to wearing pinstripe suits and clever tailoring.

"Your foot is shit," her Sky tells the Cavallone Heir when he returns wearing a borrowed t-shirt and pair of tracksuit trousers.

"I know," Francesco grumbles, dropping back onto the sofa with a groan. "I was trying to design a better one but then I got set upon by a demented toddler."

Xanxus tears off his current page, sets it to one side and joins the older teen on the sofa. "Show me," he demands, handing over his pencil.

"Okay, well…"

Xanna tunes them out, not really interested in the technicalities of load and form and stress. Then Xanxus throws a cushion at her. "What?"

Her Sky points at the coffee table with the pencil. "Sit."

"Why?" she asks, getting reluctantly to her feet.

"Foot," Xanxus tells her, waving his hand impatiently in her direction and grabbing her ankle the moment she sits down, pulling the requested appendage onto his lap. Then he starts flexing it, staring attentively and feeling how the bones move and the muscles pull.

"Sorry," Francesco tells her sheepishly as Xanxus prods at her toes.

"It's fine," Xanna tells him. It's not like she's got anything better to do right now and it's almost like a foot massage. "Besides, better prosthetic designs mean better care for men injured in service and improved chances for them to get back into work. Let Xanxus get his geek on and you'll be running around properly again in no time."

Her Sky pokes the sole of her foot with the pencil point in retaliation for the jab at his nerdy tendencies and she sticks her tongue out at him. "What, it's true," she tells him. "You are a total Flame Tech geek and were just as bad over guns even before Cesco got you into metalwork and engineering generally. Your brain is terrifying and magnificent and I am in awe."

Xanxus gives her a Look and continues playing with her foot with his left hand, leaning into Francesco so he can sketch with his right. "Like you aren't hot shit with Flame circuitry," he retorts absently.

"It's easy with Lightning; I just crib off regular electronics and fiddle it until I find the optimal layout," Xanna says dismissively. "I'm not thinking outside the box much."

"Your Flames manifest as plasma blades and you do it subconsciously," Xanxus counters dryly, "and that was before you started fucking about with electromagnetic fields."

"You had to explain the equations to me with very small words." Physics is not Xanna's best subject; those are still biology and economics.

"You make them and they're stable."

"Both of you are brilliant and terrifying and I adore you equally," Cesco says easily, "and not just because you saved my baby brother from having Reborn set on _him_." He shudders. "Dino's only thirteen."

"I'm only fourteen, trash," Xanxus drawls without looking up from Xanna's foot, pencil still scratching confidently on the drawing board.

"You are a genius and not fair to the rest of humanity," the Cavallone Heir retorts without missing a beat. "My little brother has only just graduated middle school!"

"Your hitman is coming," Xanxus replies absently, pressing his thumb into the ball of her foot. "Do we have anatomy books?"

"I've got our physical education textbook from first year on my shelf," Xanna replies; "there's a section on bones and musculature."

"Fetch it."

"Let go of my foot then."

"No."

Xanna rolls her eyes. "Fine then, Mr Show-Off." She can in fact move things with her Flames even when she can't see them, so long as she knows where they are and can visualise what she wants. Electromagnetic fields are fun like that and Xanxus is intensely proud of her achievements with them.

The door to the hall opens to admit a toddler in a suit with Flames far too big for his body just as Xanna is floating the desired textbook across the room. She manages to set it down gently on the couch next to Xanxus's thigh despite the distraction. "Your book, your Highness."

Xanxus ignores the sarcasm and flicks through the pages, grabbing her foot with his right hand when she tries to take it back. "Stay."

"Not a dog," Xanna reminds him dryly.

Her Sky grins toothily without looking up, patting her foot patronisingly. "My pretty little pixie."

Xanna wishes very much that Xanxus had not sat in on some of her training sessions with the Varia Lightning Officer and heard the man calling her 'sprite'. Why he and his boss had refused to call her anything else was still a mystery but Xanxus thought it was hilarious and is _still_ buying her fairy-themed stuff over a year on. Not that Xanna minds wearing things that are pastel, floral, gauzy or sparkly, but body glitter is not exactly professional and it is hard to get people to take you seriously at formal events when your Sky makes you wear a flower crown.

"Crow," she retorts. Xanxus's fondness for black, black and more black has only become more acute as he ages; right now he's wearing black eyeliner, nail polish and lipstick along with a black tank top and leggings, making him look a lot like the vengeance-driven comic-book character her nickname for him alludes to.

"At least you've managed to make some useful allies, Cripple-Cesco."

Xanna twitches at the casually ableist insult that she'd thought she'd managed to properly stamp out of the stupider people at school in the five months since her friend's maiming. "The last person who called Francesco that mysteriously fell down two flights of stairs," she says to nobody in particular.

"Broke both legs and his spine in three places," Xanxus agrees, his fingers tightening on her ankle. The idiot had actually only broken one of his legs falling down the stairs; the other leg Xanxus had very deliberately stomped on when he arrived at the bottom. On the fibula to be specific, as it is more fragile and without it standing up is not possible as it provides joint stability. A broken tibia is not nearly so restricting in terms of locomotion.

"Guys, please," Cesco mumbles, a hand over his eyes.

"You are not crippled," Xanna says matter-of-factly. "You ran up here on your crappy prosthetic foot."

"I only ran for about five minutes," their friend mumbles, "then I got a lift." Well that makes a bit more sense; it's a long, long way to Cesco's house from here.

"Still ran," Xanna repeats. "You're only crippled if you allow yourself to be limited by your circumstances, which you are not doing. We are building you a better foot at your instigation."

"Could weaponise it," Xanxus adds. "Be easy." He lets go of her foot as his hand snakes back to the drawing board over Francesco's lap, his eyes still on the textbook on his left.

"I don't know how to fight," Cesco mutters, hands now twisting in his lap.

"Learn to kick things," Xanna suggests. "That way you don't need to worry about weapons and your current prosthetic might be crappy but it's still solid. Besides, you dance very well so fighting shouldn't take you much to learn."

"I'm not that great," Cesco says quietly.

"Cesco, you did ballet through elementary and middle school; you have excellent balance and can probably kick like a mule," Xanna tells him dryly. She's seen him playing football and he's terrifying.

"Ballet?" Xanxus's head shoots up, his expression utterly delighted.

"Xanna I told you that in strict confidence!" their friend wails, both hands whipping up to cover his face.

The miniature hitman climbs up onto the coffee table next to her. "Ballet is useful for instilling flexibility and poise, Lame-Cesco, both of which are very important in a mafia boss."

Xanna lets the 'lame' slide; it's factual, currently somewhat accurate and the man has at least dropped 'cripple'. It won't last long once they get the new foot made.

* * *

"Xanna?"

"Hm?" Xanna doesn't look up from her book as Xanxus sprawls across the bed and rests his head on her lower back.

"Why did you stop dating?"

Xanna ponders the question from her recently-fifteen-year-old Sky; to be honest she hadn't noticed. When did she last… oh, almost a year ago. "I lost interest," she says honestly. "I'm more than halfway to nineteen, I finished puberty a while back and my hormones have settled down; I don't really have much of a sex drive anymore and there's nobody around who's really interesting enough that I want to make an effort for them."

Her Sky started taking a much more marked interest in her romantic escapades after boyfriend number three, who tried to pressure her into having sex with him and then got confrontational with her when she dumped him due to having no intention of doing so. Didone and Daniela helped her get away from him the first time, but the second confrontation happened while she was hanging out with Xanxus. Who set the guy on fire for accusing her of a load of really awful things, including that she was 'cheating on him'.

"So you're not really bothered about sex, despite never having had any."

"Define 'had sex'." Xanna smiles over her shoulder as her Sky stiffens.

"Who?" He demands, levering himself up with a hand on her thigh.

"Answer my question first," she demands lightly. "How do you define sex, Xanxus? Is it any kind of sexual contact, orgasms, intercourse, what?"

"Sex is somebody else touching your genitals," Xanxus says bluntly. "Rape is somebody doing so without your consent." That's a pretty broad definition really.

"In which case, yes I have had sex," Xanna replies. "Several times." If he'd specified intercourse then her answer would have been 'no, never' and if he'd said orgasms then the answer would have been 'twice'.

"With. Whom?" Xanxus demands through gritted teeth.

"I consented, so why are you upset?"

"You're _mine_."

"Xanxus, when I pledged myself to you I specified no sexual favours. You agreed," Xanna reminds him firmly. "You are all I have but you do not get veto over who I am intimate with. That is my choice and mine alone."

Xanxus growls and throws himself back down on top of her. Xanna goes back to her reading.

"So you don't like sex," he grumbles eventually into her shirt.

"It's okay," Xanna concedes, "but I do not feel that my life is in any way lacking without it. How about you?" If this is a conversation then he should reciprocate.

"Not had sex yet."

"Interested?"

"Yes." A pause. "Very."

"You've probably got a much higher sex drive than me then," Xanna says bluntly. "I was never massively interested unless I was already making out with somebody." She was already somewhat aware of him being more into sex than her, seeing as they share a bed and wet dreams are a thing. That had been acutely embarrassing for Xanxus the first few times but these days he usually wakes up and takes himself off to the bathroom rather than making a mess of the sheets.

"You don't get dreams." Clearly Xanxus's thoughts are wandering in the same direction as hers.

"Not like that, no." She doesn't really masturbate either; touching herself doesn't do much for her so she no longer bothers.

"What would make you interested?"

Xanna ponders the question. "Clarify that, please."

"What would it take to make you interested in sex?"

"The right person and the right circumstances," Xanna replies instantly.

"What circumstances?" Xanxus really has a bee in his bonnet about this, doesn't he?

"Xanxus, I would like to be a mother someday," she tells him quietly; this is a private ambition she's never shared before. "But I want to have the father of my children at my side helping me raise them, which means being married. If I ever find somebody I can love who loves me, is willing to commit to me completely and marry me, despite my being your Guardian and all that involves, then I will happily have sex with them to maintain our relationship and conceive our children."

"Sex as relationship maintenance?" Xanxus is clearly bemused.

"Sex is intimate, it connects people," Xanna says softly. "Spouses need to be connected in order for a marriage to work, and exclusive sex with somebody you love strengthens the relationship."

"We have a relationship."

"We do, but I'm your Guardian and pledged to you; that makes me subordinate. Marriage is a covenant between people who recognise and accept each-other as equals." She is not going to have sex with Xanxus and be his kept woman. She wants to be married to somebody who looks at her as his equal, respects her strength and asks her things rather than ordering her about. Anything less than that is just not enough.

"I don't think Enrico is ever going to accept a woman as his equal," Xanxus mutters snidely.

"In which case he's never going to have a proper marriage, even if he does manage to find a woman prepared to put up with him," Xanna replies, letting him change the subject. Whatever that was about, Xanxus now knows exactly where she stands.

"And neither is Massimo."

"Massimo likes men."

"Oh." A long and thoughtful pause. "Likes Andrea?" Andrea Esposito is Massimo's Sun Guardian.

"Pretty sure they're married in every way except the official one." It's not yet legal in Italy for two people of the same gender to be married.

"Oh." Another very long pause. "Federico?"

"Federico is more in love with the idea of being in love than with anybody in particular," Xanna says dryly, "but he does actually respect women so he might eventually find somebody willing to put up with him." Federico is also a bit in the closet since she's mostly sure he's attracted to pretty men as much as he is to women, hence his enduring discomfort with Xanxus's fondness for makeup. The fact they're related likely makes it worse, along with the massive age difference; it's sexist but Federico is probably less hung up about the ages of pretty girls who catch his eye than the pretty boys.

"How do you notice this shit?"

Xanna rolls her eyes, not that her Sky can see them. "I pay attention and I know when people lie, even the little slippery lies that are almost true but not quite. Love is a little bit like truth and Massimo loves Andrea more than anybody else, Enrico doesn't really love anybody as much as he loves himself and Federico loves indiscriminately." Love is love, be it carnal or familial or platonic it all looks the same to her.

"Dad?"

"Loves all you boys the same and nobody else as much as he does you, not even your grandma although she comes a close second."

"Me?" This is a test.

"You love your father, grandmother and me the most, your brothers second and our friends third." Despite probably liking his friends more than he does his brothers; love is not rational.

"I do." He believes her.

"I wouldn't lie."

"I know that," Xanxus pats the back of her knee, "but you might be mistaken."

"I am not perfect and I do make mistakes," Xanna agrees. Just because somebody loves you, it doesn't mean they won't hurt you terribly if it suits them. Just because somebody is telling you the truth, doesn't mean that what those words mean to them is the same thing that they mean when you say them. Love is not safe and neither is truth, but they are far better than the alternatives.

* * *

Xanna is showering after a training session when Xanxus breaks the lock on the bathroom door and pins her to the tiles by her throat. "Did you know?" He hisses.

"What's wrong?" Is somebody dead? Has Xanxus found out something his father has done that he finds unpalatable?

"I'm not Don Vongola's son!" Oh. That.

"You knew!" The hand around her neck tightens; Xanna calls on her Flames to Harden the tissues around her trachea, veins and arteries so she doesn't choke or pass out.

"I suspected!" She gasps. "No proof!" Her Sky lets go of her and she slides down the wall into a sitting position. The shower is still running, she has bubbles in her hair and Xanxus's upper half is soaking wet, rivulets streaming down his body and soaking into his trousers.

"Suspected what exactly?" Xanxus demands flatly, reaching across and turning off the water. Xanna glares up at him.

"You look nothing like Don Vongola; he had light brown hair before he went grey and you told me your mother was blonde, so they couldn't have had a black-haired child together as genetics don't work like that. Never mind how much taller than him you are. You look more like Enrico and Federico around the face and they apparently take after their mother. I thought you might be one of theirs, or maybe their mother had a brother or a nephew and you were his kid." She has had a lot of time to think about this after all.

"He calls me his son all the time and you never called him out for lying!"

"Xanxus, when he calls you his son he is telling the truth," Xanna says quietly, "because he truly considers you to be such, but notice that he has never once called you his _heir_ , or at least not in my hearing." She sighs. "Words mean different things to different people."

Xanxus drops to the floor, jams a fist in his mouth and screams, tears welling up. Xanna scrambles out of the shower on her knees and hugs him tightly; his free arm wraps around her waist and drags her closer still. "Sorry," she whispers into his neck. "I didn't want to say anything when I didn't know for sure. You might still be Vongola even if you aren't the Don's youngest. I don't know. I don't think anybody knows for sure unless they've done a proper paternity test, which they probably haven't since the Don claimed you."

"I'm fucking nobody!" Xanxus snarls miserably into her hair. "He lied to me all this time! He knows I want to be Tenth and everybody else wants me to as well and he _never said_! I've got no right to fucking _nothing_!"

"You are still my Sky," Xanna says fiercely. "I pledged to you not caring whose son you were; all that matters to me is that you are _you_. I am yours, I will always be yours and I am not about to start letting Don Vongola change that after defying him for this long."

"What? How long?" Xanxus drags himself back so he can look her in the eyes; he's got tear-tracks on his cheeks and there's a muscle jumping in his jaw.

"Xanxus, Don Vongola has been nothing but disapproving of me since you brought me here," Xanna says tiredly. "He thought I was trying to take advantage of you from day one. He only stopped thinking that when I went Active protecting you, at which point he decided I was simply a bad influence and needed to be taught better. Hence all those god-awful tutors. He is still firmly of the opinion that I am a bad influence and that is unlikely to ever change."

"That explains a lot," Xanxus mumbles. "Like why he tried to send you to school in the first place. You knew even then?"

"I knew even then," Xanna admits heavily. "I didn't want to ruin your relationship with him though, so I didn't say anything."

"You really loved me that much when I was a bratty kid?" Xanxus does have a remarkable knack for emotional subtext when he's actually paying attention.

"I've always loved you this much, brat," Xanna says tiredly, "and I always will. Despite you trying to strangle me in the shower over things beyond my control."

"Sorry." Xanxus hangs his head. "You said," he hesitates, "you think I might still be Vongola?"

"All we know for _sure_ is that Timoteo Vongola is not your father," Xanna says quietly. "Enrico, Massimo and Federico are all old enough to have sired you and I know nothing about their mother's family, who she was descended from or anything. There are five generations of Vongola Dons who lived and married in this area, almost all of whom had more than one child, so you could very easily still be Vongola to some degree or other. A blood test would determine how closely you are related to Enrico, Massimo and Federico and then we could investigate from there based on the results. It would be tricky, but it should be possible to pin down whether you actually are Vongola."

"Okay." Xanxus takes a short, sharp breath. "So maybe I'm Vongola. I'm still angry with the Don though."

"That is your prerogative," Xanna concedes. "He may not have outright lied but he has been wilfully deceiving you and the entire Vongola Alliance for most of a decade."

"I hate him," Xanxus admits bitterly, still staring at his knees. "Why lie? It's pointless!"

"I really don't know why he lies all the time," Xanna replies sadly, "just that he does. I've never been curious about why." Lying is a weakness –a vulnerability– but she has never been inherently interested in exploiting Don Vongola's flaws. It's Xanxus's wellbeing that had always been her priority.

Xanxus finally, reluctantly lets go of her and rises to his feet. "I'm going to change and work on my guns," he mutters, leaving the room and quietly closing the door behind him. Xanna stands up, stares at the busted lock for a few seconds then turns on the shower again. She needs to at least finish rinsing her hair before she can do anything about this.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, you! Don't ignore me!" Xanna pauses and steps away from the punching bag she was whaling on with her batons and turns to see what all the shouting is about.

"Crow, you made a friend?" The skinny white-haired teen in the Academy high school uniform spins around and glares at her, pointing an accusing finger.

"Oi! Don't you talk to the Heir like that!"

Xanna raises an eyebrow; she hadn't thought there was anybody left in the Alliance who doesn't know who she is these days, what with Xanxus being invited to and attending every event he possibly can and her following along as was her duty as Guardian. Then again, Guardian: lots of people seemed to class them as furniture. "Xanxus?"

"New follower," her Sky grunts, shucking his jacket and boots and joining her on the mats. "Blades."

Xanna obligingly settles into a comfortable stance and channels her Flames into her batons, waking the circuitry Xanxus has etched into them and turning them into short, double-edged blades. The length and sharpness of these blades is entirely at her discretion, so right now they are blunt and more a way of extending her reach and tightening her focus than for cutting things.

"Hey, that's not how you hold a sword!" the touchy little loud guy complains before she can even get started. "You're an embarrassment to swordsmen everywhere!"

Xanna eyeballs her Sky flatly; he smirks at her and raises an eyebrow. Fine then.

"Okay brat, show me."

"Oi! My name is Squalo; Squalo Superbi and don't you forget it!" the pale teen yells, kicking off his shoes and hurrying onto the mats so he can adjust her grip. "Like this, see?"

Xanna does see; it's a bit different to what she's used to but it does improve her control. "Thanks." She tries another swing.

"Dear God but you are completely shit, your guard's wide open!" the pale Superbi moans. "You're a disgrace to the Heir!"

Is this brat for real? Since when has her Sky had anything resembling dignity? This is the teenager who once attended a Vongola picnic in a shocking pink woman's top, black spandex leggings and bare feet, just to show off that the nail polish on his toes matched both his shirt and his eye-shadow! She glances at Xanxus. "Does he know you?"

"Just met today," Xanxus tells her, clearly enjoying every second of the ridiculous dramatics.

"I'm going to have to teach you, aren't I?" the younger boy goes on, glaring at her. "Fine; I'll come by after school. Who are you anyway?"

"Mine," Xanxus replies easily, in a far better mood than Xanna has seen since he found out about not actually being Don Vongola's son. Well, it's a Superbi and her Sky clearly finds him amusing, so why not?

"I'm his Lightning Guardian, pup," Xanna adds.

"Oi! It's _Squalo_ not puppy!" Okay so maybe Xanna can see why Xanxus is so amused by this particular Superbi, he's bristling all over.

"You're a cute little dogfish," she teases. "With fangs," she adds as he takes a swipe at her. "I'm Xanna."

Squalo Superbi does not look impressed by her, possibly because she is wearing a pink sports bra and pastel green leggings with flowers on, her hair tied up in pigtails by a pair of glittery scrunchies. "You're his Guardian?"

Xanna feels her smile widen into a toothy smirk. "I'm wearing exactly what Xanxus wants me to wear," she informs the younger teen. "Think about that for a moment, please."

Squalo does and his face shifts into something more thoughtful. "You're a stealth specialist?"

Smart boy; Falena would be so proud of her relative. "Ambush specialist," she corrects him. "Everybody underestimates Lightnings and very few mafia men will recognise a woman as a threat when she wears pink and glitter."

Squalo visibly takes this on board, frowning intensely. "Your swordsmanship is still shit though," he says, tone rather more amicable now.

"Clearly that's what you're here for," Xanna tells him. "Xanxus, are we keeping him full-time or are just borrowing him in the afternoons?"

"He pledged," her Sky says lazily.

"Did you even call his family before bringing him up here?" Xanna asks, not really expecting much. Her Sky is in a right mood currently and his sense of humour gets a bit dubious when he's like this.

"Nope," he tells her smugly.

"Great," Xanna sighs, letting her Flames die away and collapsing the batons so they clip onto her belt. "Come on Squalo, let's call your relatives so they know you haven't run off or been abducted and arrange to have you move into our spare room."

"Move in?" Oh, so he hasn't thought it through that far.

"You've pledged to a Vongola Sky and he accepted, that means you live where he wants you to live and he wants you to live here," Xanna tells him. "There's an unused bedroom in our suite you can have, but there're only two bathrooms so you'll have to share with Xanxus."

"Sure," Squalo says with a shrug, clearly not at all bothered about moving away from whoever is raising him despite probably not being even as old as Xanxus yet. That's not so suspicious; most teenagers do want to move out at some point, especially if they've fallen out with parents or siblings recently.

"How old are you?"

"I'm going to be fourteen on March thirteenth," he says proudly; that's more than a month away yet. Eighteen months younger than her Sky then. Wanting to move out at _thirteen_ is a bit different to doing so at, say, fifteen. That he's willing to do so without even voicing concern over possessions and parents is rather more suspicious.

"Xanxus is fifteen and I'm going to be nineteen on April seventh," she tells him, "so technically I'm going to be your legal guardian for paperwork-related stuff despite Xanxus being who we both answer to in mafia matters. This is common practice for underage Skies with adult Guardians and means both you and Xanxus can do all kinds of things without needing parental permission." Like going out in a car; last year she suffered through the Vongola defensive driving course for her Sky's sake.

Squalo nods but doesn't say anything.

"Who am I going to be talking to about your pledge?"

He shrugs. "My parents are kind of civilian, so my grandpa, maybe? Or Don Superbi?"

"Names, please." The staff will have all the numbers but she needs to know who she's talking to.

"Baleno Superbi and Silvia Soave, Delfino Superbi and Don Leone Superbi," the teen says long-sufferingly.

"Thank-you," she tells him, mind already shifting through the best order to make those calls in. Call the parents first; who knows how long they've been missing him by now. Then Don Leone Superbi, for formality's sake and to see if Squalo could be getting any extra family training now he's 'employed' in the mafia rather than just attending school. Calling Delfino Superbi can wait until last and will be done without Squalo there to overhear, so she can ask if the man knows why exactly his grandson is so willing to move away from his parents aged thirteen.

* * *

Adding Squalo to their life brings a few facts to the forefront for Xanna. First of all that she's actually been living with Xanxus for over five years now and it's changed her; second that their living arrangements are very definitely not like anybody else's.

"Are you fucking?" Squalo asks as they stand just inside Xanxus's room, staring from the double bed with both their pyjamas folded up on the pillows to the mixed toiletries and other possessions spread over most of the horizontal surfaces and back again.

"No," Xanna replies flatly.

Squalo takes another slow look around the room before turning to eye her dubiously. "Seriously?"

"We sleep in the same bed and have done since he was nine," Xanna says dryly, "but I am not having sex with him."

"Why?"

"Why am I not having sex with him or why are we sleeping in the same bed?" Xanna specifies.

Squalo goes faintly pink. "Hey! The second one."

"He wants me to."

"Could join us," Xanxus suggests, having watched this interaction like a man appreciating a piece of street theatre. Squalo blushes a gloriously embarrassed scarlet and splutters a vehement denial.

"Hey you, is this normal?" Squalo asks upon returning from school to find Xanxus and Xanna sitting facing each-other along the couch, legs intertwined and painting each-other's toenails.

"For us, yes," Xanna says absently, taking care not to smudge the iridescent orange that Xanxus has picked out.

"Completely nuts, I swear," Squalo mutters, dropping into the armchair and fishing his school-books out of his bag.

"We're all mad here," Xanxus says in English, not looking up from the glittery purple he is applying to her toes. "I'm mad. You're mad."

Despite being fluent in English, Squalo has clearly never read Alice in Wonderland; she'll have to get him a copy for his birthday. "Voi! I'm not mad!"

"You must be," Xanna tells him, finishing the quote, "or else you wouldn't have come here."

Squalo growls impotently and deliberately hides behind his textbook.

* * *

"So why did you pledge to Xanxus in the first place?" Xanna asks Squalo one afternoon while he's tutoring her in swordsmanship.

"His fury," the pale teen says immediately, "it's going to take him to the very top. I'm going to cut through everything that gets in my way of becoming the greatest swordsman there is, so I can only follow the man who's going to rule the Vongola."

Xanxus has decided not to confront Don Vongola over his heritage just yet and has asked Xanna not to talk about it until he has some answers from the man, so she does not try and correct Squalo there. "How are you planning on becoming the world's greatest swordsman?" she asks instead.

"I'm going to defeat the Sword Emperor," Squalo say promptly, grinning wildly.

Where has she heard that title before..? "Tyr? Head of the Varia Tyr?"

Squalo glances at her face. "Heard of him?"

Xanna snorts; what a small world. "I've met him; it was almost two years ago now. He was in a meeting with Don Vongola."

Squalo is instantly completely focused on her face. "Did you see him fight?"

"No, we just talked and he set things up so Xanxus could hire a Varia to tutor me," Xanna explains, not going into details; the contract she signed in order to get that training makes those details confidential.

The teenager looks cheated. "Hey, if you got tutored by a Varia assassin why the hell are you so crap with a sword?!"

"I wasn't learning swordsmanship, loudmouth," Xanna retorts, rolling her eyes. "They were teaching me to be efficient, sneaky and to kill things." She knows a whole lot about killing things, most of which she uses to avoid killing things. Murder is far too final for her tastes and then you have a corpse you have to deal with somehow.

"Well put a bit more effort into learning then," Squalo grumbles, poking her elbow. "Do that move again, you."

Xanna lets herself be pushed around; Squalo is an unexpectedly good teacher for a genius –regardless of his terrible manners– and he's amusingly fixated on her Sky, to the point that she suspects Xanxus might actually have accepted him as a Guardian despite the teenager still being Flame Latent. Then again, he probably considered her to be his Guardian long before she became Active too.

* * *

Less than a week after turning fourteen Squalo vanishes and doesn't come home –or attend school– for two whole days; Xanxus is grumpy but not particularly upset so Xanna assumes he knows what's going on and leaves them to it. Then in the early morning of day three she gets a phone call.

"Hullo sprite!" A cheerful and unfamiliar male voice says once the phone has been handed over, letting her know exactly where the call is coming from. "Our new Head says you're his designated adult so come over and sign his paperwork, would you? Oh and bring your Sky along too." The phone goes dead; Xanna sighs and goes to drag Xanxus through the shower; he had a break-through on his guns yesterday and didn't actually come to bed until two in the morning.

And how on earth is Squalo now the Head of the Varia? He's barely fourteen!

It turns out the Varia has a 'you broke it, you bought it' approach to leadership; Squalo managed to kill Tyr after a two-day fight –and the crazy shark cut his dominant hand off right before starting, what the hell is wrong with him– so he is now Head of the Varia. Except he's not, because when Xanna and Xanxus arrive at Varia Headquarters the little lunatic staggers out of the medical wing with his left wrist a bandaged stump and declares Xanxus to be the Boss.

Xanxus does not turn the position down, so Xanna ends up arranging their move from the Iron Fort into the Varia with the staff because like hell she's going to leave either of them unsupervised. Squalo cut of his hand! His _dominant_ hand!

"Nice to have you on board at last, sprite," the Sun Officer drawls the moment she puts the phone down, "you took your time."

Xanna realises instantly that there is major subtext she has been missing where that nickname is concerned. She's not the only one to notice.

"Hey, what d'you mean by that?" Squalo demands.

The man smirks. "I mean that's your Lightning Officer, as selected by her predecessor before retiring," he says gleefully, waving at Xanna. "Named by Tyr, trained by Tesla; she's already signed the secrecy contracts too."

Squalo turns on her. "You, you're _already_ Varia?!"

"Why did nobody tell me about this?" Xanna demands as beside her Xanxus's shoulders shake with contained mirth.

The Cloud Officer smiles blandly. "There's a betting pool," he says, which explains everything and nothing. "One year, eleven months and nineteen days between joining and actually starting work; I think that's a record."

"Good thing too, the paperwork's been piling up," another assassin mutters. Paperwork? Xanna turns accusingly on her Sky.

"Did you know about this?"

Xanxus shakes his head, grinning madly and clearly not trusting himself to be able to speak coherently past suppressed laughter.

"Come on, sprite, I'll show you your office," the Sun Officer rumbles, waving his hook towards the door.

"Why do you all keep calling me that?" Xanna asks, giving up on sanity and reason as she falls in behind him.

"It's your name; everybody Varia gets a name when they join," he tells her. "I'm Schurk."

"Tyr called me that within seconds of seeing me the first time; you mean he just recruited me on the spot? In front of Don Vongola?" Xanna can't quite believe it, except she also can because she did break down a reinforced door then berate the world's most influential mafia boss in front of his guest while covered in fresh blood.

"Naming's not everything of course; a new Varia's got to be tested for Quality," Schurk concedes, "but Tesla did that so it's properly above board. He even decided you were good enough to train up as his successor."

"He might have at least asked me first," Xanna grumbles.

"Better to ask for forgiveness than permission," the Sun Officer says airily, "and Tyr confirmed the nomination. You're official."

"Does the Varia _ever_ bother with asking for forgiveness?" Xanna can't see it happening.

"Nope."

Well it's nice to know that the newly-dead Varia Head and her ex-tutor have conspired between them to stick her with the second job they both knew very well she didn't want. Don Vongola definitely knew about this even if Xanxus didn't; how much of an effect has this had on the man's attitude towards her and his view on Xanxus's explicit ambition to succeed him?

Wait a minute.

"We paid Tesla for that training, but if you inducted me as a member then I was entitled to it for free!" Xanna isn't sure if she's more outraged by the sheer brazen cheek or amused by the sneakiness.

Schurk cackles. "Most of the money's in your Varia account, Sprite. Talk to the Mist Officer; he's our treasurer."

Well she'd always known something this might be coming, but it is still a bit of a shock to find out she'd been recruited by the Varia two years _before_ Xanxus took it over.

He is never going to let her live this down, is he?

* * *

There is less paperwork than Xanna feared there would be; it turns out the Varia is largely self-managing with Squad Leaders doing most of the work. As an Officer her job is to oversee the training of all those with the same Flame-affinity as her –assigning other Lightnings as necessary to ensure specific skills are handed on– to check all the reports handed in by those in her Division –which is the biggest pile on the desk– lead the Division Squad and follow up on any issues arising both within the Division and between her people and those in other Divisions. She can pick out a General Manager to oversee the human resources side if she wants and appoint somebody else as Division Squad Leader, but really it's not very much compared to what it might be. It is simple enough in theory, but in practice there has to be more than this to being an Officer and having authority within the Varia.

"Of course there's other stuff too, but the Head of the Varia usually assigns that to specific Officers and you not being here meant you couldn't do any of that," Schurk adds as Xanna circles the stacks of paperwork and eyes the files wedged in the nearby bookcase; it's going to make sorting all this out challenging if they just stuck paperwork everywhere and anywhere. "Stuff like the accounts, the armoury, setting up patrols and so on. I'm sure once you've worked through this and settled in you'll pick some of that up."

"Probably," Xanna concedes; she's always help Xanxus run his life, even when it was just helping him set up a manageable schedule and then keeping in touch with everybody they no longer go to school with. Which reminds her, she needs to talk to him about the move; he's not going to want to leave that to the maids, not when there's his workshop to pack up too and hopefully move into the basement here at the Varia.

"Is there space in the basement here for a smithy and workshop?"

"Plenty; we make a lot of custom weapons onsite," Schurk says easily. "You make blades?"

"Xanxus makes guns, among other things," Xanna tells him, deciding to leave the paperwork for now. Another day won't make much of a difference. Not when compared to two years of backlog.

"What do you do?"

"In my free time, you mean?" Xanna replies as she heads towards where she can feel Xanxus. "I have pot-plants, I read, I take photographs." The photography hobby is a bit on and off but she really enjoys it; her bathroom in the suite at the Iron Fort has a black-out blind so she can develop her own film, she has all the necessary supplies and equipment to create her own black-and-white prints and she has folders and albums full of both posed art and candid memories. There're even a few packs of colour prints from when she and Xanxus were investigating how well Flames show up on camera –it depends a lot on exposure– and from a few school trips.

Her reading hobby is actually more seditious than her fondness for photographic documentation; Xanxus has been stealing Vongola journals out of the Iron Fort's private libraries for her to study since shortly after they started school and she's very interested in official civilian history and document trails as well. The various local libraries have newspapers going back over a century and they've fleshed out her understanding of mafia politics and economics. Research is something she really enjoys and she's good at tying things together.

She finds Xanxus in a hallway, Squalo leaning on the wall next to him and some people who look a bit like they might be the Varia's answer to staff standing around too, along with a few loitering assassins. Her Sky glances at her as soon as she is within regular speaking distance:

"Suite's too small."

"Tyr's old suite is, you mean." The Varia clearly believe very strongly in stepping into dead men's shoes, even though they likely also believe in shaking them out carefully first, in case of traps. "This place is huge, there're got to be somewhere bigger even if we have to remodel a bit." Varia Headquarters is a ridiculously massive castle-bunker of a building.

"It's not too small, you just don't think you can fit Xanna in it with you," Squalo grumbles, not bothering to keep his voice down at all. Which reminds her…

"Squalo, so nice to see you're feeling better already," she croons, prompting Xanxus to turn around properly to watch the show. "You'll be able to attend school tomorrow then."

Squalo splutters. "I'm Varia now! I'm not going back to school!"

"I am the adult in your life and I say you _are_ going to school," Xanna tells him flatly. "You are fourteen; you need the social connections and the education."

"How am I supposed to write with this?" the teenager demands, waving the stump of his left hand then taking an abrupt step back as Xanna moves closer.

"Perhaps you should have considered that before mutilating yourself, hm?" She suggests, poking his chest. "Maybe I should schedule a few hours a week with a counsellor too; cutting off bits of yourself is definitely a cry for help."

"Hey, I don't need to see a shrink!" Squalo protests loudly. "I wanted to understand Tyr's sword style! He only had one hand!" He actually genuinely believes his actions were rational and that does not sit right with her at all.

"Which I'm sure could have been achieved by binding up your hand or something rather than chopping it off," Xanna hisses, leaning in so close that the younger teen jerks back and bangs his head on the wall. "But no. You are clearly lacking in any sense of proportion so you are grounded until you learn better. Hence school."

"School's boring!" Squalo's complaint is more petulant than anything else.

"If you want to change track in the summer I can arrange that," Xanna says implacably, straightening up again, "and I'm sure we can set up some suitably challenging extra-curriculars for you as well. If you were bored you should have told us sooner; there's plenty you can learn without resorting to amputation."

"Stop going on about it, you!"

"No I will not!" Xanna shouts, her wings flashing into being and making several assassins twitch; Squalo actually goes white. "You cut your own hand off! That is not okay! It is an unnecessary limitation you are going to have to overcome in order to live a full life! It was stupid and pointless and I have serious doubts about your mental health! Xanxus does not need self-destructive idiots fucking up his plans with their reckless posturing! You are fourteen years old and you actually still think this was a good idea, what is _wrong_ with you?!"

"Breathe, pixie," Xanxus says gently, reaching between the blades and gripping her shoulder. Xanna breathes deeply and carefully snuffs out her wings, flexing her fingers and counting in her head. "Shark, you are going to school," her Sky adds.

Squalo stiffens, then subsides sulkily. "Yes Boss."

"Xanna arranges your education; you want it changed, talk to her," Xanxus continues evenly, "but you will graduate properly. And the hand thing was stupid."

Squalo wilts. "Sorry Boss."

"I'm going to have to call Don Superbi and tell him," Xanna mutters, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "It's going to look so bad, prospective Vongola Heir's newest and youngest subordinate showing up without his dominant hand after going missing for a few days." If she can't get Squalo to care for his own sake, maybe he can be made to care about how it reflects on his boss.

"Oi! I said I was sorry!"

"Well I haven't forgiven you yet!" Xanna snaps.

"Calm," Xanxus tells her firmly, shaking her shoulder.

Yes. Calm. Right. "Xanxus, we need to move everything over from the Iron Fort and I really doubt you trust the staff with all our stuff," Xanna says, turning around and determinedly changing the subject. "Want to go back over and oversee packing? I'll see to clearing out Tyr's rooms and finding out what our other options are, how long renovations would take and so on. Then when you get back you can make a decision."

"Not calm yet," her Sky chides softly.

"I want to break a few of Squalo's bones so he has to rest properly," Xanna admits candidly, "and so he can't run off and mutilate himself again while I'm not looking."

"Assign a shadow," Xanxus suggests.

"I really doubt there's anybody here sane enough," Xanna complains, waving her hands. "They made him Head of the Varia, Xanxus! A crazy fourteen-year-old with no sense of proportion, in charge of the Vongola's detached assassination branch!"

"Point," her Sky concedes with aplomb. "Introduce him to Cavallone?"

"So they can swap stupid self-mutilation stories? That might work," Xanna concedes. "Are you going to make Squalo pay the same penalty?"

"Penalty?" Squalo looks alarmed.

"Yes," Xanxus decides with a smirk, "definitely." The condition for Francesco getting his improved Flame-conductive prosthetic foot and for Xanxus servicing it regularly was the Cavallone Heir letting them paint his toenails at the same time… for the rest of his life. Squalo is much more immature and dramatic than their ex-classmate so is probably going to make a big fuss about it; Xanxus is also likely to insist on painting the younger boy's fingernails as well, just because he can.

"What penalty, tell me, you!" Squalo demands.

"Me to know, you to find out," Xanxus tells the younger boy smugly; "lifelong penalty though." He turns back to Xanna. "Better now?"

"Take him with you to the Iron Fort, please," Xanna says, "and tell your grandma why we're leaving." Signora Vongola is the only one who really deserves an explanation. "I'll call Massimo for you." Massimo is in Germany doing some negotiating for his father and cares enough to at least merit a warning.

"Grandma will laugh," Xanxus replies pensively. "Good plan."

"Hey, stop picking on me!" Squalo protests hotly.

"Earned it," Xanxus tells him trenchantly, grabbing his right arm and dragging him away towards the stairs.

"Oi! Let go! I can walk fine!"

Xanxus ignores the complaints; he wasn't too bothered about Squalo initially but Xanna's outburst has evidently brought his attention to the implications, so now he's likely feeling protective and a bit annoyed at himself for missing said implications to begin with. Squalo will have to get used to being dragged places for the time being.

"Okay, _now_ I see why you're his Lightning Guardian," one of the spectating assassins says appreciatively. "The cute is a lie."

Considering Xanna is wearing a sparkly pastel roll-neck jumper and butterfly hairclips right now, that's probably a fair comment. "A layer, not a lie," she corrects him anyway. "I can be cute and still obliterate everybody in my Sky's way." She's not that bothered about her clothes, but Xanxus really likes how horribly underestimated she is so he keeps on dressing her accordingly. Part of him is likely looking forward to her delivering an epic beat-down to either Enrico's or Federico's Lightning Guardian while dressed in pastels, florals and body glitter, which is admittedly a very attractive mental image. "Who's going to show me around the building so I can find some bigger rooms?"

"Let's all go, shall we?" another assassin suggests cheerfully, twirling a knife. "We can get to know you at the same time."

Xanna has no objections to that.

* * *

Squalo attends school extremely ungraciously the following morning, having been personally driven there by Xanna, and upon returning at lunchtime hunts her down in Xanxus's temporary office and informs her loudly and grumpily that he's been kicked out of instrument classes for no longer being able to play the cello, teachers have scolded him on two separate occasions for terrible illegible handwriting and his classmates keep asking stupid questions. Oh, and he hates her for doing this to him, why can't he stop going to school?

Xanna informs him that with freedom of choice comes the responsibility to face the consequences of those choices and the fourteen-year-old stomps off to his rooms so he can sulk in private. Xanxus listens to the entire exchange with a smirk, not looking up from the paperwork that is currently eating his life. Her Sky is determined to review everything the Varia does and how it is arranged, so he understands it fully and can then reform sections of it as necessary. Xanna's paperwork did not actually take very long to sign off –although she barely understood half of it and had to call on the writers for clarification between the slang and languages she doesn't know– but then she had to bring it all over for Xanxus to look at and he's still going through it.

"Anything I can do?" she asks after finishing her lunch and setting the tray aside.

"Yes; door," Xanxus tells her absently. Xanna closes the door, walks back to the couch currently taking up half of the paperwork-free space in the temporary office –it is going to take ten days to get the new, larger suite furnished as quite a bit of electricity and plumbing needs to be upgraded before it can be decorated– and lies down along it.

"So tell me."

Xanxus sets the paperwork aside, walks around the desk and sprawls on top of her, wrapping his arms around her upper body and burying his face in the back of her neck. "Mine," he rumbles. "My clever, scary, protective pixie."

"Oh, so you want something," Xanna deduces. "Out with it, flatterer."

Her Sky breathes against her skin for several long moments. "I want you to research something for me," he murmurs eventually. "For the Vongola thing."

Ah. This is personal then. Xanna rolls over in his arms and slides down the couch a little so she can hug him back properly. "Where do I start?" she asks quietly, lips almost touching his ear.

She feels as much as hears the unsteady breath her Sky takes. "My mother," Xanxus replies ever so faintly, "her name was Elena. Elena Marino. She didn't use her surname for anything, but she had an identity card she kept hidden under the mattress and I could read enough to know what it said: status unmarried, profession waitress, born on the third of January, nineteen forty-eight. It might have been a fake though. I was born in Palermo, probably. We always lived there that I remember. I found my Flames when I was five, but before that she called me Xanthus rather than Xanxus, I think. Like in the Iliad. We had a translation. She used to read it to me sometimes and call me her little river god." He breathes harshly for another long minute. "She gave me to Don Vongola on November the sixteenth, nineteen-eighty-four; I never saw or heard from her again. I was looking in his papers to see if he'd kept track of her or knew whether she was still alive when I found out I wasn't his."

"I will see what I can find," Xanna promises firmly. "Can you show me on a map where you used to live?"

"Probably." Xanxus however doesn't move; instead his breathing evens out and his heartbeat slows. Did he just fall asleep on her? Yes, he did. Xanna tips her head back and shifts a little to get a bit more comfortable; it is hardly the first time this has happened and it is unlikely to be the last.

Of course, now that Xanxus is sleeping the Storm Officer comes in with more paperwork. "Isn't he a bit old for naps?" the assassin –his name is Triton– asks sardonically.

"It's siesta time, come back later," Xanna tells him flatly. Xanxus sleeps like a rock when he's flopped over her; when it's just him on a chair or couch or bed then he could just as easily be awake and listening as actually asleep, but when he's cuddling her he's out like a light and unlikely to wake up for anything less than an explosion. It's intensely adorable and makes her feel warm inside that he trusts her this implicitly.

"Whatever." The Storm Officer adds the papers to the desk and lets himself out again, probably to gossip with anybody who'll listen to him about what he's just seen. And to think Xanna had thought the Iron Fort's staff were bad; the Varia seems to run on gossip, a patchwork of casual truths and deliberate lies that are recognised as such but never really acknowledged out loud. Xanxus seems to find the trickery and subterfuge entertaining and has taken to it like a duck to water; Xanna is less enthused. She can navigate it but it's already getting tedious and it's only her second day.

Her Sky is snoring gently in her ear, his banked Flames humming soothingly against her own. She wouldn't trade this for anything.

* * *

By Saturday lunchtime Xanna has managed to reach the entirety of hers and Xanxus's extensive circle of friends on the phone and let everyone know they they've moved out of the Iron Fort. Also that just stopping by to visit them at their new residence is inadvisable due to all the assassins; responses to that little fact varied, but somehow nobody is particularly surprised. Instead Xanna has to fit two nights out and a family visit into the upcoming week, which will at least keep Xanxus from losing himself in the paperwork.

Lunch is brought up by the Sun GM, who coos over a grouchy Squalo and flirts with Xanxus. Xanxus flirts back with a toothy grin, making the slightly older teen –Xanna doesn't think he's older than seventeen– fan himself dramatically with one hand and flutter his eyelashes before turning on Xanna.

"You need your uniform fitting, darling; come by my office after you've finished eating and I'll fix you up."

"Will I actually get to wear the uniform?" Xanna asks her Sky, who is already wearing his; it's mostly black leather and makes him look even more gothic than usual. He just had to find a size that mostly fit and have a few minor alterations made, unlike her who will need hers making from scratch because the number of women in the Varia is pitiful enough to be counted on fingers. On one hand. Squalo is in his school uniform, but has substituted a shirt with the Varia Rain Division crest stitched on his sleeve for the plain one he is supposed to be wearing.

"Armoured and Flame-resistant," Xanxus tells her succinctly, which means yes, she will be wearing it a lot. "Getting your other stuff fixed up too." Ah, so she's going to be combining leather with her usual cute and sparkly look; that's going to be fun.

"I'm going to look like a punk Tinker Bell," Xanna complains, but there's no heat in it. She really does not care what she wears so long as it's comfortable and not too revealing.

"Pretty punk pixie," her Sky teases, grinning. "Getting better boots too."

"Do I get to pick those or are you?"

"You get a say," Xanxus concedes graciously.

"You two are just adorably domestic," the GM gushes, his green hair bouncing as he presses a hand to his heart.

"Sickeningly domestic," Squalo corrects from where he's kneeling by the coffee table, bent industriously over his homework. Apparently it's quieter in Xanxus's office than in his own suite, which implies that various Varia are cheerfully barging in on the flimsiest of excuses, wanting to get to know him better. Unlike the two of them Squalo has no Flame training, so can't really drive the intruders off with anything short of bloody violence. In fact he's only just worked out how to access his Flames –it happened during his fight with Tyr– and Xanxus has vetoed training until Squalo's wrist has healed properly.

According to Squalo some of the Varia have been stalking him at school too; Xanna thinks they may be doing it just to make him twitch, since they are certainly skilled enough to hide from him entirely.

"You have no romance in your soul, Squ-chan," the Sun says mournfully.

"Oi! Don't call me that!"

"Sprite, birthday?" Xanxus asks as the flamboyant General Manager ruffles Squalo's hair and the fourteen-year-old swipes violently at him. Where did he get that knife from?

Xanna thinks about it. "I don't know, a picnic maybe? Whatever we do Francesco's already invited himself along to it. So have Claudio, Piero and Didone; Falena's busy with university but she scoffed dismissively when I suggested random visits might not be advisable so she's going to show up in her own time as usual." Falena has a terrible sense of timing and has previously visited them at four in the morning; how she got into the Iron Fort at that time of day is still a mystery, but Xanna suspects the place is nowhere near as secure as it should be. Complacency is a terrible thing.

"Varia picnic?" Xanxus looks pensive. "Got the space…" he trails off thoughtfully. They really do have the space; there's a wide band of grassy lawn right around the building, probably as a defensive measure, and while a lot of it is likely trapped they can order it cleared for a day if they want to.

"That sounds lovely, Boss!" the Sun GM says cheerfully, dodging Squalo's attacks. "Can I set it up? What day's your birthday, Sprite-sweetie?"

"April seventh," Xanna tells him easily; it's probably going to be a disaster but at least it will be a fun disaster. "Xanxus gets to vet presents and has maimed people for both trapping things and giving me items he considers inappropriate, so bear that in mind. I think Cesco has a list of banned items so you can ask him for copies." A few Varia are already aware of when her birthday is as it's on her paperwork and have been hinting at gifts –the Lightnings especially and not one of them has a clue about appropriate social behaviour, it's terrible– so organising things rigorously is probably the only way to go.

"Thank-you honey, that's very helpful," the GM pauses, "and where are my manners? I haven't introduced myself to you yet, have I sugar? I'm Lussuria, lovely to have you with us."

Xanna leans over the coffee table and offers him a hand. "Sprite and likewise; Schurk says he's retiring come summer and you're clearly on top on things in Sun Division."

Lussuria shakes her hand firmly, his smile brilliant. "Honey, you are a delight! And I love your clothes; where did you get that shirt?"

Xanna looks down at it; it's an orange satin short-sleeved blouse, loose enough to fight in, that showed up in her wardrobe last summer. "Xanxus, where did you get this from?"

Xanxus glances at her. "Had it made: costume workshop in Superbi territory. Falena showed me."

"Ooh, custom?" Lussuria darts around the outside of the room and leans over the back of the couch, fingering the curve of her collar seam. "Lovely work. You let Boss dress you?"

"Her taste is shit," Xanxus says, grabbing another file. "She'd wear a black suit every day."

"Darling, you wouldn't!" the Sun exclaims, throwing up his hands. "Smothering your gorgeous skin like that would be a tragedy!"

"I don't actually care about clothes that much and I'm terrible at colour coordination," Xanna admits, "but Xanxus enjoys it, so…"

"Well at least you know your limits and let him take care of you, sweetheart," Lussuria commiserates, patting her shoulder. "Does he choose your makeup too?"

"If I'm wearing makeup, he applied it," Xanna says frankly. "Same with nail polish."

"Really?" The Sun looks interested, bending closer to her face. "You've got a good eye for accents, Boss." Which is not the usual reaction this piece of news gets from young men, but Lussuria's manner is giving her a vibe. The flirting earlier was a major clue too.

"Lots of practice," her Sky grunts.

"Once he's on top of the paperwork you'll probably see him wearing more makeup," Xanna adds slyly. "I mean, the eyeliner by itself is pretty sharp but you should see him with eye-shadow."

Lussuria fans himself with a hand. "Darling, you're killing me here," he moans, biting his lower lip.

"He'll probably go full-out goth sometime soon and you'll get to see him in dark lipstick," Xanna continues mercilessly. "It'll look stunning with the uniform, don't you think?"

The Sun makes a tiny helpless noise in his throat and slumps over the top of the couch. "That is so _hot_ , honey how do you live with him?" he whines.

"I've known him since he was nine, it kind of takes the shine off," Xanna admits candidly, although she honestly really does enjoy looking at her Sky. Not having much of a sex drive does not make her blind to his considerable aesthetic appeal.

"Oh, you much have all the best stories," Lussuria says conspiratorially, leaning into her.

"No," Xanxus says firmly, glaring at them over the papers in his hands.

Xanna raises an eyebrow. "Not even all those lovely stories about your father and brothers' reactions to you wearing makeup?"

"Those are fine," her Sky concedes, shoulders loosening.

"I can keep secrets, crow," Xanna teases him gently before turning back to Lussuria. "One time Federico Vongola blacked his own eye walking into a light fitting."

"You can't just stop there, sugar, tell me!" the Sun demands gleefully, vaulting gracefully over the back of the couch and settling on the seat next to her.

Xanna grins and launches into the tale of the clash that put a firm ending to the makeup wars by slaughtering Federico's fragile masculine dignity with emerald eye-shadow, gold lustre and wine red lip gloss, thereby convincing the two oldest Vongola men that discretion was the better part of valour and prompting them to also retire from the field.

* * *

"Hey, I'm going to my grandparents! You don't have to babysit me!"

Xanna settles in the back of the car next to Squalo and taps on the driver's shoulder, prompting them to set off. "I've talked to your grandfather on the phone and would like to meet him in person. Besides, I'm sure they'll want to ask about your hand and this way they can do so."

"Oi! Will you stop going on about my hand!" Squalo explodes bitterly. "You're disappointed, I get it! It's done and I can't change it, stop punishing me!"

Oh, major misunderstanding ahoy. "Squalo, I'm not disappointed," Xanna says quietly. "It's not _about_ me; I want you to have everything you can take hold of, okay? To do everything you possibly can as well. But being a hand short limits your opportunities and that upsets me, because now you're going to find yourself running into things you literally cannot do and you're going to find that really irritating and demoralising. Yes, you'll find compromises and work-arounds for a lot of them, because you're capable and imaginative, but that's not the same. I just…" she trails off with a sigh. "We want you to value yourself, okay? Xanxus wouldn't have brought you home if he didn't think you were interesting and that's nothing to do with your abilities; it's about _you_. You inherently; we do really appreciate your talents as well but they're an extra. There's more to life than work and so much out there to explore. Give it a try, okay?"

Squalo stares at her. "What do you even want?" He demands.

"I want you to be confident and content enough that you can roll with all the crap life will invariably throw at you," Xanna tells him bluntly. "Look at Xanxus: he doesn't give a shit what people think of his fondness for makeup, because it makes him happy and screw everybody else, he deserves to be happy. And so do you."

"What is it with the makeup, seriously?" Squalo asks plaintively.

Xanna chuckles. "Well, it started out as me informing him that anybody saying something was specifically 'for girls' or 'for boys' was full of shit, because gender isn't about what you do, it's about what you feel you are. So he was curious about a range of things he'd not been allowed to have or do by Don Vongola. Makeup was just one of those and he probably would have lost interest like he did in most of the other things, except that Enrico and Federico made a massive fuss about it and told him he had to stop."

"So he didn't," Squalo deduces with a smirk.

"So he refused to," Xanna agrees cheerfully. "He got very into it and gradually realised it wasn't just upsetting his father and brothers that made him like it, it was genuinely entertaining in itself. As a fun superficial thing that makes life more enjoyable, like dressing me up and watching people wonder what such a fierce and violent Sky could ever see in such a dreamy and feminine Lightning." Her face defaults to 'inattentive' when she's not actively emoting, which is just one of those things she can't change.

"Other than a play toy," Squalo points out cynically.

"Xanxus has horribly maimed people for suggesting he only keeps me around for sex," Xanna says mildly. "One of them is bedbound, has to mainline high-grade painkillers in order to stay sane and only has one halfway working limb."

"Hey, that really happened?" Squalo looks green. "I thought it was just a horror story!"

"No, that really happened." Xanna smiles, "just off school grounds, in fact. Most people know better than to make those kinds of insinuations nowadays."

"Sorry," Squalo says quickly.

"Hey, you're just curious, that's fine," Xanna tells him easily. "It's not like you've been deliberately insulting either of us or making idiotic assumptions based on sketchy rumours."

"You two are so crazy weird," Squalo says frankly, "but you're damn effective and I think Boss heading the Vongola would be amazing, if extremely uncomfortable for all the old fossils," he grins, "and I definitely want to see that."

Xanna kind of wants to see it too, although her investigation into Xanxus's mother has thus far been frustratingly lacking in results. She's going back to Palermo later today, to poke about some more in the town archives and dig about in hospital records. "The Ninth has been in power a long time now," is all she says, "longer than any other Vongola Don, I think."

"Definitely time for a change then," Squalo says confidently, leaning back in his seat.

* * *

Xanna had expected greying yet understatedly scary Superbi; that's the entire point of this visit after all. The charmer in the pink shirt is however a surprise. A really nice surprise; he's making her hormones sit up and actually pay attention even after the initial pleasantries with Squalo's grandparents have been exchanged.

Squalo of course notices almost instantly. "Hey, stop making eyes at my cousin!"

Xanna looks from him to said cousin, whose eyes are dancing. "Do you want me to stop?" She asks him.

"Please don't," he tells her, smirking as Squalo groans. "I was really disappointed to keep missing you at school, what with the stories I've heard from other relatives. I'm Pantera."

Xanna shakes the proffered hand. "Xanna, or Sprite now I'm officially Varia."

"Which would you prefer?" Pantera asks, loosening his grip on her hand but not actually letting go, caressing her knuckles with his thumb.

"Sprite for business, I think," she decides. It's who she is in the Varia and while she lacks most of the exploitable connections that the Naming system exists to protect, it's important to fit in.

"Well this isn't business, so Xanna," Pantera drawls, his mouth caressing her name. "Care to join me for drinks while my little cousin has his first Flame lesson?"

"I'd love to," Xanna says easily, letting herself be drawn into sitting down next to him at the kitchen table and accepting a glass of lemonade. Squalo palms his face and mumbles something about 'damn over-affectionate cats' in almost comically despairing tones.

"Ah, young love," Squalo's grandmother says cheerfully as Delfino hustles the fourteen-year-old off; Xanxus agreed that Squalo should get the basics from his grandparents so he doesn't miss out on any family secrets, then the rest of his training can continue with the Varia. "I'll be in the garage, give me a shout if you need me!"

It's been well over a year since Xanna has done anything remotely resembling a date, but Pantera is refreshingly low-key and has a delightfully subversive sense of humour. He's also incredibly well-informed and attractively sensible; they have a really engrossing conversation on local history and socio-cultural expectations that gets rather heated –in a non-confrontational way since he agrees with her on all major points– and somehow ends up with her straddling his lap being thoroughly kissed. Not that she has any objections; Pantera's not trying to rush her into anything and the slow pace is deliciously decadent.

"We should do this again," Pantera eventually murmurs, hands playing across her lower back under her shirt.

"The talking or the kissing?" Xanna asks, basking in the warm sizzle of faintly frustrated desire. She rules her body, it does not rule her, and anticipation makes everything so much sweeter.

"Both," Pantera says firmly. "They complement each-other, don't you think?"

"Oh, definitely," Xanna agrees, smirking playfully. "You have a lovely way with words."

"Now I feel all conflicted about asking you to arrange a meeting with your Sky," the Superbi Heir adds wryly. "For political reasons, not to do with Squalo," he specifies, "but my wanting to see you again is not remotely related to the politics of the Vongola Alliance."

"Business before pleasure?" Xanna suggests, stretching without getting up and relishing how the flex of her thighs around his make his eyes darken and his breath catch. "Xanxus can probably fit you in at the weekend; Saturday morning sound good?"

"Can I take you out for lunch afterwards?"

Xanna's never had a lunch date before. "That sounds fun, but I should probably warn you that trying to date me will involve being stalked by curious Varia assassins," she informs him. "They're worse than cats." In fact there's probably one watching them now, the driver if nobody else.

Pantera gifts her with a lazy feline smirk. "I think I can live with that." His fingers slide up her spine, tripping lightly over her bra fastening and making her shirt ride up under her breasts. "I hear you have a birthday coming up."

"On the seventh," Xanna agrees, leaning into his hands a little. "There's going to be a picnic at Varia Headquarters and a few of my more bull-headed and daring school-friends will be attending. You could come." She eyes his shirt, which she has thus far managed to resist the temptation of unbuttoning. "Wear pink, Xanxus will get a kick out of it."

"At the meeting or to the picnic?" Pantera asks, hands sliding leisurely down her back again as his fingers trace the edges of her muscles.

"Both," Xanna decides, eyes fluttering closed as she basks in the simple physicality of touch. "You seem like a guy secure enough in his masculinity to own more than one pink shirt."

"So perceptive," Pantera teases, hands now cupping her waist and stroking the curve of flesh above her hipbones. "I think I can manage to fulfil such a minor request."

"Think you could kiss me some more right now, too?" Xanna asks hopefully.

"It would be my pleasure," Pantera purrs, one arm sliding around her waist to pull her closer to his body and his other hand digging fingers into her scalp as he covers her lips with his.

* * *

"Is Boss going to murder my cousin for putting his hands all over you?" Squalo demands as soon as they're back in the car.

"No, Xanxus has agreed he has no say in who I date," Xanna says firmly. "If your cousin turns out to be a sleazebag wanting to exploit me then he may turn up murdered, but not until then."

"Hey, do you actually think that's going to happen?" Squalo sounds outraged.

"No, I think your cousin's far too charming for his own good but not at all that kind of scum," Xanna informs him cheerfully. She's really looking forward to finding out how this relationship goes. "He's safe, from violence at least. Xanxus is probably going to find a way to vet him though."

"He might make it a mission," the driver comments. "We do espionage sometimes."

"Isn't that abuse of position?" Xanna asks curiously.

"Not if he pays for it!" The driver says cheerfully. "Congrats on your date, by the way; this is really going to liven up the betting pools."

"Thank-you for that," Xanna says wryly, if only for the confirmation that he was definitely eavesdropping. "Please make sure anybody trying to spy on us knows not to get caught; me bailing you out because you under-estimated the Superbi would be very embarrassing from a professional perspective."

"Good point, I'll let people know."

"Hey, you're just letting them follow you?" Squalo looks betrayed by her nonchalance; maybe he was hoping she'd help him escape his own watchers?

"Squalo, I have almost never had a single moment fully to myself outside of my room since pledging to Xanxus," Xanna tells the young swordsman gently, "and not much private time in my room either, as Xanxus is more social than he seems and feels he has a right to my company. Plus Don Vongola has never trusted me, so I had to live with that too. So as far as I am concerned there is _always_ someone watching; however they are usually professional people with manners and do not talk about it. Rude people making crass remarks about my behaviour are however not tolerated." She knows Don Vongola has set various Mists to spy on her over the years, but they have all kept her secrets as she has never done anything they consider harmful. Most of them even told her they were doing it, so she could take steps to better protect Xanxus's privacy in the face of relentless surveillance. Sometimes the advice was more mundane, like suggestions on where to shop for what, but those were generally personal opinions rather than a reiteration of Don Vongola's 'suggestions'.

"That's absolute shit," Squalo spits. "Does Boss know?"

"Maybe?" Xanna shrugs. "The Mists told me they were doing it and I made sure Xanxus had places to go to that I didn't enter, like his bathroom and workshop, so those places could be kept completely surveillance-free. It's not like I change my behaviour when other people are watching; the only reason I censor myself in front of Don Vongola is I don't want him to have me killed."

"You really think he'd do that," the driver says thoughtfully.

"I think I could easily get him to the point where he'd consider it less hassle than letting me live, no matter what Xanxus might do to avenge me," Xanna says mildly. "I always know when I'm being lied to and he knows it. If I started calling him out every time he lied around Xanxus I think he'd very quickly run out of patience."

"Hey, don't do that," Squalo says quickly, indicating he can see it happening too.

"The Varia can't take contracts on Officers," the driver says firmly, "so you're safe there. Nobody sane is going to try and break into the Varia to murder you either."

"So I only have to worry about lunatics and ambitious underlings," Xanna muses, "rather than offended mafia Dons. Well, it's a change I suppose."

"I am telling Boss what you said about his father having you watched," Squalo says firmly, glaring like he's daring her to protest.

"If you want to," Xanna agrees. She never told Xanxus to begin with because there wasn't anything he _could_ do about it back then, and later on it sort of stopped feeling important. You really can get used to all kinds of things and getting watched while they were sneaking out was actually a useful safety measure. It wasn't like the Mists ever stopped them from leaving, even if Don Vongola invariably scolded Xanxus for it afterwards.

"Wait, so if you hear lies, does that mean you know when _everybody_ is lying?" the driver asks suddenly.

"Yes it does and it's getting annoying," Xanna replies tartly. "I don't mind the little social lies –those are sadly inevitable– but doing it deliberately to see if I notice it happening is just tedious. Boss enjoys the challenge but to me it's like hearing people singing off-key on purpose and acting like nobody can tell. If people don't want to tell me things they can blatantly change the subject or just say that they're not answering that; lies are so annoying." She takes a quick breath. "I don't mind a little teasing or joking around in a personal context, but when it's business I'd much rather people were straight with me."

"Loud and clear, Officer," the driver replies quickly.

"Why not call people out?" Squalo asks curiously.

"Just because I can hear people lying doesn't mean I know why they're lying," Xanna tells him tiredly, "and sometimes people lie about painful things. It's not kind to prod at people's sore spots, so I try not to. But I know that sooner or later I'm going to have a bad day, at which point all my tolerance for pissing about will evaporate and I will probably traumatise somebody." It has happened before; she has made several Dons' younger sons cry at Vongola parties over the years. They had it coming but it still wasn't kind.

"I don't lie," Squalo says after a thoughtful pause.

"I know and I really appreciate it." She really does, it's so restful. It's a lot of why her patience for Xanxus's antics is near-infinite; he's both perceptive and incessantly honest, which makes it very difficult for her to lose her temper with him.

Squalo smiles sharply at her open agreement and the rest of the journey passes in comfortable silence.

* * *

"Another Superbi?" her Sky asks when she finally gets back to the Varia from Palermo, leaning against the wall as she slips out of her high heels on the front step.

"What can I say, I'm attracted to excellence," Xanna jokes, closing the front door behind her with her shoes hanging from her hand. Being a Lightning comes with the advantage of being able to walk over all manner of sharp things without damaging her feet, which is something she takes advantage of regularly. Her new Varia boots –currently being made by a specialist cobbler– will be sturdy enough that she won't need to do this as often, but she honestly enjoys wandering around barefoot sometimes.

"Standards are good," Xanxus agrees, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her up the stairs. "Got a few questions for you."

"Hm?" Xanna hums encouragingly, but no questions are forthcoming until after Xanxus has closed the door of their new suite behind them and hustled her onto the couch. He sits down on the coffee table opposite her, dragging her feet into his lap and tugging off her stockings so he can massage her feet. He's got really strong hands now; Xanna braces herself against the couch back and whimpers happily.

"What have you found?" Her Sky asks quietly, thumb digging into the arch of her foot.

"Uh, I, found the hospital you were born at," Xanna manages, "and found a copy of your, birth declaration, in their archives. Used that to get at the birth records." Oh, this feels so nice after hours on her feet in silly shoes. "Got copies and bought a proper certificate; congratulations, you exist as a person independent of the mafia." His fingers dig into her ankle, making her gasp. "And, and since it had your mother's details on, I found her too." He'd got her birth-date slightly wrong, or maybe the identity card had been fiddled a bit. "Your grandmother's alive; in the phone book even."

Xanxus's hands freeze. "My mother?" he asks quietly.

Xanna leans forwards and places her hands over his. "Fifteen months ago; Drug overdose. I'm pretty sure Don Vongola knew about it," she tells him quietly.

Xanxus does not lift his eyes from their joined hands. "Of course he did," he says, voice desperately tired and uncharacteristically bitter. "My grandmother?"

"Clio Marino, born nineteen-nineteen; I have her address," Xanna continues. "What is a bit more interesting really is that your mother's birth certificate lists her father as a Giotto Molinaro." The Molinaro are a longstanding Alliance family.

Xanxus's head shoots up at the mention of 'Giotto', a distinctive Vongola Alliance name, and he starts shaking as soon as she finishes saying the associated surname. Soft and hysterical laughter spills from his lips as tears well up in his eyes.

"She, she always thought it was _me_ with the Vongola father," he giggles, burying his face in his hands. "All this time it was her–!" His shoulders shake and the giggles turn to sobs; Xanna gently manhandles him onto the couch and hugs him.

"I take it you know who that is," she guesses after his tears subside. No matter her interest in Vongola Alliance sociology she's never been that focused on the genealogy aspect.

"Sesto had four legitimate kids and twice as many illegitimate ones," Xanxus says hoarsely. "Settimo was the second of his wife's sons; Eduardo was the youngest, married a Molinaro and didn't try to be Don despite being a Sky. Had three kids; eldest lost to Ottava in the succession battles, tried to murder her later, killed a Guardian and got executed for it. Youngest was a girl and married Ottavo Cavallone; Francesco's her grandson. Middle kid was Giotto, died right at the end of World War Two, also a Sky. But the dates? They don't?"

"You mother was born on the third of January, nineteen-forty- _six_ ," Xanna stresses lightly. "Your grandma was either Giotto's lover or his mistress; I'm leaning towards the latter since he clearly had no intention of marrying her."

Xanxus sniffs, rubbing his eyes. "Going to talk to grandma about a paternity test," he mutters, "since I'm in the running regardless, or should be. Why does bloodline matter anyway?"

"That's something you'll have more luck looking into than me," Xanna reminds him, "since you're allowed to go poking about in the Iron Fort's archives and I'm really not."

"I'll visit tomorrow and invite grandma to your birthday party," Xanxus says quietly, "and ask her about Giotto too. She mentioned him once or twice, he was a favourite cousin."

"Your grandma and the Varia? That sounds like a glorious train-wreck I rather want to watch," Xanna admits candidly, "even though it will mean getting mercilessly teased over dating Pantera."

"She'll bring up Falena and Colubro again, you mean," Xanxus rasps, amusement colouring his voice. "And probably insinuate about Squalo too, just to make you squirm."

"You brought him home, not me," Xanna says firmly, "and I will throw you under that bus if I have to; you like Superbi too."

"You suggested Nepa," Xanxus says mildly, smiling ever so slightly.

"I did not suggest Orsina, you went after her all by yourself."

"Heh." The smile widens into a toothy smirk. "She was fun; half Visconti too."

"So can we just admit that we both really like Superbi and are attracted to strong, competent people?" Xanna suggests hopefully. It doesn't hurt that all the Superbi she's met so far are easy on the eyes, even though not all of them are classically beautiful. They're arresting more than anything else; strong personalities shining through mere physical flesh makes them easy to look at.

"Maybe," Xanxus concedes, getting to his feet and picking her up, "maybe not. Depends." He abandons her shoes and stockings and carries her bridal-style across the main room into the bedroom.

"On what exactly, crow?" Xanna asks warily.

"I've not met Pantera yet, pixie, so can't judge," her Sky says with a shrug and a half-smile, kicking the door closed behind him and crossing the bedroom towards the bathroom. "Now let me be appreciative and wash your face."

"How do those two things line up?" Xanna demands, poking his shoulder.

"Once your makeup's off I'm giving you a back massage," Xanxus says firmly, "and finishing up your legs too."

"Carry on then." The foot massage was nice and all but having him finish pressing away all the tension in her back and calves would be heavenly after the afternoon she's had. She must have walked nearly ten miles in those unsuitable heels and dealing with obstructive bureaucrats is always so intensely frustrating it reduces her shoulders to knots.

* * *

Xanna's morning starts with tearstains on her pyjama shirt, proceeds into an unusually complicated hairstyle before even being allowed to shower and is followed by her Sky then hiding his grief under anger as he leaves the bedroom. She doesn't comment; they both have work to be doing and Xanxus knows he can interrupt her any time he feels the need. She also does not comment on the dusky, elegant charcoal-green shirt he picks out for her to wear with her uniform or that he paints her nails a dark, bruised purple to match her eye-shadow and lipstick after carefully applying foundation to cover her freckles. She looks exceedingly gothic today; Xanxus does too, his eyeliner, eye-shadow and lipstick identical to hers and his nails painted black.

"Are we both crows today?" she asks when rather than his usual white dress shirt he picks out a black muscle shirt.

"Post-punk pixie," Xanxus retorts without heat, shrugging into his uniform jacket. "Your boots are finished."

Her new Varia boots hug her calves most of the way to her knees and have flat clips up the outside rather than laces or buckles; they're black, of course, but the cobbler has embossed them with a subtle lacy leafy pattern and the upper edge curves very flatteringly. In fact everything about these boots is flattering, completely unlike Xanxus's plainly solid pair with the laces up the front.

"You have plans for a skirt, don't you," she accuses, looking from the boots on her feet to her Sky and back again. Yes, her trousers tuck into them very tidily, but the Varia uniform doesn't quite fit the image the boots are trying to portray.

"Do I?" Xanxus parrots back dryly, clipping feathers to the hair around the nape of his neck. Which means yes, because he hasn't denied it and won't give her the satisfaction of catching him in a lie.

"Yes, you do," she confirms with a sigh. "Tell you what; if I can wear it over the trousers I will, but I refuse to substitute. This is the uniform and I'm getting very attached to how sturdy and comfortable it is." She won't compromise safety for aesthetics and the uniform is remarkably easy to move in considering its weight and that it is mostly made of leather.

"Fair," her Sky concedes, a spark of something more playful briefly mingling with the anger in his eyes; Xanna won't tell him not be angry, not when it's the only thing keeping him from breaking down. There will be time and space for breaking down again later. "Plans?"

"Flame-training with my Division to see what I've got to work with, some swordsmanship training so Squalo doesn't cuss me out during my next lesson, a chat with Housekeeping on birthday food for next Thursday and that's all before lunch," Xanna replies. "Think you'll be back for lunch?"

"No; official Varia meeting with Don Vongola before I talk to grandma," Xanxus tells her, voice flat.

Oh yikes. How can she–? "Take an Officer or two," she says impulsively. "He's not used to dealing with you as an equal or near-equal, so having your subordinates present will remind him that you're not a child anymore." She does not want that meeting to turn into another family fight, especially since Xanxus holds a position of power in the Vongola now and is due appropriate respect. He isn't a child anymore no matter what Don Vongola may think, even though he isn't quite an adult yet.

"Hm." Xanxus doesn't agree, but he doesn't outright refute the idea either; she can see him thinking it through. "Not the shark."

"Of course not; he has school," Xanna counters humorously; 'Squalo has school' is turning into a Varia-wide in-joke, much to the Rain Officer's dismay. He doesn't take missions –he has school– a few of the veterans in his Division deal with most of the paperwork for him –he has school– and his training times and bedtimes are also tightly scheduled –he has school.

Squalo does not seriously fight the restrictions but he complains very, very loudly. Xanna suspects he's going to do his best to cram during the summer so he can skip ahead a year or two and get the whole education business over with more quickly.

"Not Triton," Xanxus continues, smirking slightly at her comment, "Schurk and Mammon; need a copy of the Vongola financial contracts anyway." Mammon is the treasurer as well as the Mist Officer and Xanxus wants him to overhaul the Varia's financing to make it more streamlined and efficient. Mammon is also as tiny as Francesco's tutor, making Xanna wonder if they know each-other. If so, she rather doubts that they get along well, considering the vastly different personalities.

"Just remember we're going over to Danny Vezzini's for dinner at six," Xanna reminds him. "I think her father wants to talk about advances in Flame Tech with somebody who is allowed to hear and actually understands the details, so there might be a few other R&D people there for you to talk shop with too." Most of the people Xanxus knows personally through their school connections are in the mid-to-lower ranks, as the Vongola Alliance's Dons and underbosses usually send their children into the Academy's management track; leadership is considered more desirable a skill than negotiation.

Her Sky nods, presses his fingertips to the pulse point in her throat in lieu of a kiss –it wouldn't do to smudge their lipstick– and heads out to face the day. Xanna follows him.

* * *

Xanna has a very educational –if somewhat disheartening– training session with her Lightnings, spends an hour working on sword forms and is heading upstairs for a shower when she is cornered by one of the senior Mists.

"Mammon says you're needed," is spat out in a drawling American twang by the rather non-descript man and then there they are in a familiar corridor a few metres back behind her Sky. Who is a tightly coiled spring of insulted, agonised fury, his hands shimmering ominously as he faces the External Advisor. Who is saying something.

Oh hell. Who let Sawada in here?

It's clearly too late for words so Xanna doesn't bother; she takes three quick steps, jumps, plants her hands on her Sky's shoulders on the way up, somersaults over him and ignites her wings –sharp– as soon as she clears his head.

Sawada hesitates; Xanna hits him in the chest feet-first before he can decide who the bigger threat is and rides him down to the ground, pinning his hands wide with feet and feather-blades that will take his hands off if he struggles. Oh, he can certainly burn his way out –the director of the CEDEF is a Sky and no pushover– but that would mean burning the carpet as well. Xanna has also planted a pair of blades behind her back, stabbing down snug against his groin, which has definitely cooled his enthusiasm.

"Sprite." Xanna feels her Sky behind her but does not look away from her very dangerous captive.

"Yes, Boss?" she chirps instead, keeping her voice light and careless as she draws one of her batons and presses the edge gently against Sawada's throat.

"Motive?" It's an indifferent, negligent purr, a mask to the pain roiling just beneath the anger.

"He was attacking you, Boss," she says brightly. "I'm not supposed to let people attack you."

Strong fingers dig into her scalp, gently mussing the complicated net of braids. "Good girl."

Iemitsu Sawada glares up at Xanxus, ignoring her completely. "Call off your Lightning."

"No." Xanxus lifts his hand from her hair and strides past her little tableau, not hesitating or looking back on his way to his grandmother's suite. The Sun and Mist Officer do not follow him, instead drifting wide of her to get a better view. Better attack angles too.

"How embarrassing for the External Advisor, to be caught attacking one of the Vongola Heirs," Mammon says from his perch on the shoulder of the Mist who dragged her here.

"How unwise, attacking a Sky in front of their Lightning Guardian," Schurk agrees, tone cool and unfriendly.

"How fucking stupid can you get to attack the Head of the Varia?" Xanna agrees chirpily. "It's not like the CEDEF is part of the Vongola and therefore exempt from contracts." She smiles coldly. "Or tragic accidents."

"Xanxus will not be inheriting the Vongola," the External Advisor says firmly, actually looking her properly in the eye at long last. Xanna shrugs the shoulder not directly attached to the hand holding a baton against his windpipe; he genuinely believes what he is saying, which implies that he knows Don Vongola is not Xanxus's father. It's not a secret then; do Don Vongola's sons know too, or is it just the Director of the CEDEF?

"As External Advisor, you may nominate a different candidate if you so wish," she agrees carelessly, "but within the Vongola Alliance all of the Dons and underbosses agree that my Sky is the one they would follow after the Ninth." Xanxus is known among the lower ranks in a way the older Vongola men are not and his strength, brilliance and charisma have outshone theirs at every single formal event Don Vongola has hosted in the past two years. He even has the blood, if perhaps not the same blood as the other candidates. He is the best choice.

Save perhaps for this man, who is directly descended from First and has a five-year-old son whose existence she is mostly confident of, despite a complete lack of any evidence save a story that exists only in her own memory.

A son who would probably be better off should her hand slip a little.

There is a sigh from behind her. "Xanna, release the External Advisor."

"Sprite is working," Xanna says lightly, "and doing her duty by her Sky according to Vongola tradition. The External Advisor was attempting to harm her Sky."

"I didn't lay a hand on him!" Sawada protests loudly.

"I did not accuse you of assaulting him," Xanna says, her tone light but steely. "I said that you attacked him and wished to harm him." Physical violence is in many ways less painful that the other more subtle kinds; Xanxus has never needed her help in a straight fight.

"Sprite, release him."

"Boss said not to," she counters easily. As a Guardian she answers only to her Sky; had she been Vongola before becoming a Guardian then she might have had it ingrained in her to obey the Don, but he never wanted her and she is disinclined to pander to him. Adversity is good for the soul.

She is mostly sure that the only reason Sawada hasn't tried to escape yet is that he is not confident he can throw her off before she gelds him.

Hands –familiar hands– close over each of her shoulders above her wings; Don Vongola's Guardians doing his dirty work as usual. "If you try to move me I might castrate him," she warns. The hands still; another weary sigh fills the silence behind her.

There are footsteps down the hall in front of her. "Xanna? Where's Xanxus? And why am I not surprised to find you assaulting the External Advisor?"

"Hi Massimo!" Xanna says brightly, not looking up from Iemitsu's constipated face. "Did you know that Xanxus's mother died winter before last and nobody bothered to tell him?"

The atmosphere in the hallway changes drastically; the hands on her shoulders slacken, then retreat entirely a few seconds later.

"I did not know. Is that why you're looking so much more gothic than usual?" Massimo asks gently, coming close enough that she can see his knees in her peripheral vision.

"I expect so," Xanna replies, forgoing direct truthfulness in the presence of people she does not trust. "Letting Xanxus incinerate Sawada would probably be very cathartic for him but he'd regret it later." Mostly because of the fuss Don Vongola would make and the trouble it would cause for the Alliance. "He's with your grandmother." Implying a lot of things that aren't true, but she didn't actually lie with her words. She's hopefully won her Sky some peace and quiet too.

"My son…" Don Vongola sighs deeply once more before his tone firms and becomes more formal. "Guardian, my thanks for your intervention and de-escalation; please release the External Advisor so that he can return to the CEDEF." Getting him out of the Iron Fort and well away from grieving Wrath users; finally an order she can get behind.

Xanna retracts her wings, rises gracefully and tucks away her baton. "No hard feelings Sawada?" she asks as he climbs carefully to his feet, hands lingering over the cuts she has sliced through his sleeves and trousers.

The burly blond smiles insincerely but does not answer directly. "Xanxus is lucky to have you," is all the reply she gets; Sawada knows he can't lie to her. He's picked a nice thing to say in the place of forgiveness though.

"Thank-you," she tells him before turning to her fellow Varia. She's won Xanxus some leeway with a truth he won't mind her sharing, so she really doesn't need to be here anymore. It would probably be a good idea to leave more discreetly than she arrived though. "Shall we?"

* * *

Xanxus returns to the Varia in time to redo both their makeup before the planned dinner, where he distracts himself talking Flame Tech with five different R&D specialists while Xanna watches fondly from the sidelines. He drinks a lot, eyes dancing and hands flying as he showcases his passion to people who share it and love him for it, then when things draw to a close just before midnight she drives him home. She has to carry him out of the bathroom twenty minutes later when he breaks down halfway through cleaning his teeth.

Grieving takes time.

* * *

By Saturday things have evened out a bit; her Sky has moved on from paperwork to thrashing the Varia into shape, which is working pretty well as an outlet. Xanna is not exempt from the training but she is at least used to being chased around by a Wrath user who casually outclasses her in everything combat-related, so she takes it better than any of her new colleagues. Triton in particular is nursing his wounded pride and Schurk declares flatly that screw waiting until the summer, he's retiring _now_ because his new Boss is making him feel old. Lussuria takes the abrupt promotion very well, considering. Specifically considering his crush on his Boss, which is not very subtle; her Sky has noticed it too. She's pretty sure Xanxus is interested enough back to make the first move there and is probably going to do so before very long.

Of course, with Saturday comes Xanxus's meeting with Pantera.

"Nice shirt." Her Sky is smirking ever so slightly, eyes gleaming with somewhat subdued mischief.

Pantera smiles lazily. "You too." Xanxus is wearing a pink women's t-shirt with the playboy bunny silhouette on it that fitted him last year but is a bit too short and tight now. Combined with black lipstick, shimmering baby pink eye-shadow and the Varia uniform jacket and trousers, well... There are quite a few assassins wandering around the building today looking like they suspect a Mist might be fucking with their head.

"I'll leave you two to it, shall I?" Xanna says dryly, slipping past her new boyfriend and escaping the office.

She is cornered by a quartet of gleeful assassins before even getting to the end of the hall. "Is Boss _really_ wearing a pink playboy bunny shirt?" the tallest Mist demands, bouncing on his toes.

"Yes," Xanna agrees, amused by the delight on the man's face at this revelation.

"Why does he even own one?" the petite Mist Squad Leader demands, throwing up her hands. "It can't have been yours, you're not big enough!" Her Sky is considerably broader through the shoulders than she is and has been for some time now.

"You underestimate how little my Sky cares for socially imposed gendering and how much he enjoys messing with his brothers and father," Xanna tells them dryly. "This is nothing, believe me."

"It gets better?" The tall Mist looks like she'd told him Christmas would be every month this year. "How?"

"Well, most of the things Boss is interested in are highly specialised or incredibly expensive, frequently both," Xanna explains, ambling towards one of the nearby public sitting rooms as the Mists fall in around her, "so not really the kind of thing his friends can really get their hands on. So most of his birthday and Christmas presents are either chocolate or gag gifts, although people are starting to give him fancy alcohol now as well." Xanxus isn't sixteen yet but he looks older than he is and having graduated four years earlier than usual confuses people who don't know him personally. "A lot of the gag gifts are makeup and clothing, because my Sky is a shameless clothes-horse who considers accessorising to be a form of communication and really enjoys making his rather staid male relatives cringe when he shows up to family dinners wearing glitter. Or lace. Or rhinestones."

One of the Mists at the back of the group quietly keels over, clutching their stomach and shaking with suppressed laughter. Everybody drifts to halt so as not to leave them behind.

"Dear God, I can see it," the tall Mist says wonderingly. "Tell me you have pictures?"

"I have pictures," Xanna assures him. She has all manner of pictures, including the ones from Xanxus's experimental period back when he was ten and fitted into her skirts.

"Can we see the pictures?" the last Mist in the group asks hopefully. "Pretty please?"

"Not right now; I keep them in my room in the suite and we just left," Xanna says, "but I can get them out this evening or tomorrow."

"Tomorrow please; that way we have all day," the Mist Squad Leader –her name is Mab, Xanna finally remembers– requests firmly.

"Okay, but no trying to steal them," Xanna says firmly to a chorus of groans. "If you want copies you can pay me to print them."

"Oh, you do photography don't you?" the tall Mist says delightedly. "So you have the negatives too! Are you going to take more pictures?"

"I'm already taking more pictures," Xanna confesses, "the light in our rooms is really good." The main office is west-facing, with a massive glass door opening onto a terrace, and while the bedroom and her little private sitting room only have arrow slits high in the outside walls for natural light, somebody has set up fancy studio lighting with daylight bulbs in both.

"Any nudes?" Mab asks teasingly.

"Not lately," Xanna tells her, "but there was a class project once." In their final year, in fact; sex and nudity are a complex subject in the mafia because prostitution and pornography are incredibly lucrative, but the people _running_ those kinds of enterprises are frequently exploitative and sexist about the whole thing. Diplomatic mafia training means having an entire year of art, philosophy and civics classes dedicated to discussing sex and sexuality and how it all intersects with different cultures in different time periods. Xanxus had been fascinated and infuriated by turns and there'd been several loud meltdowns both in class and at home, but he's come out the other end a whole lot steadier. So has she, honestly. The other students had not been exempt from this either, but the lessons had hit a number of Xanxus's sore spots hard when referencing his mother's actual profession.

"This I have to see," the tall Mist says, bouncing on his toes again then stopping dead. "Except maybe not? Because Boss graduated before turning fifteen and definitely isn't sixteen yet and I'm pretty sure that's immoral as well as illegal and just, no."

"I promise they're modest and tasteful and artistic," Xanna says sweetly. "We had an entire semester on differentiating art and pornography and Xanxus was banned from being photographed during the pornography project." She'd barely managed to squeak in herself, having been very recently eighteen.

"Wait, does that mean Boss _took_ the pictures?" the last Mist asks, looking like somebody just hit him over the head with a hammer.

"Not of me; the teachers insisted on same-sex pairs," Xanna informs him dryly. "But yes, I've got some very sexy pictures of Francesco Cavallone somewhere as a result of that project." Francesco had lost his foot six weeks before those photos were taken but that didn't make the images any less stunning. She also has pictures of Emanuela Bianchi, her own project partner, not to mention quite a few of herself. She has all the negatives too; she doesn't trust the school archives after all the times Xanxus has broken into them.

"I'm kind of sad I never attended mafia high school," the tall Mist says pensively. "I didn't get to do anything that fun at my school."

"People talk about how the diplomatic track is for the pansies who want to feel important but don't have what it takes to lead or to fight, but you do some hardcore shit, don't you?" the Mist on the floor says, finally dragging himself upright again.

"Diplomatic track has the strictest admission requirements," Xanna says mildly, "and then teaches us to defeat people stronger and more influential than we are without ever drawing a weapon. Most of what we learned was how to deconstruct human behaviour and recognise and exploit cultural norms, when we weren't covering how to avoid getting assassinated." Hence the classes on poisons disguised as biology and chemistry, the psychology classes and the self-defence pretending to be physical education. "Nude pictures can be diplomatic and pornography is big business in the Underworld, so we have to be well-informed and non-judgemental." Really though, management should be learning this stuff too. She'll have to ask Pantera if he covered gender and sexuality in civics and art. And if so, are there pictures? She'd like pictures.

"So Boss can do all that as well as being charismatic and a natural at violence," Mab muses. "No wonder everybody wants him as Tenth."

"That a number of the mid-range rank-and-file mafiosi have actually _met_ him, talked to him about things that matter to them and seen him take their views on board before talking about how those issues could feasibly be mitigated helps," Xanna says with a shrug. "He's visible and accessible in a way his older brothers really aren't, his disdain for rigid gendering makes him _very_ popular with a lot of people on the fringes and that he's known to have killed but not that often reassures people that their interests are going to be protected. Yeah, he's militant but it's not like that has to be a bad thing."

Xanxus as Don Vongola would take the Alliance back to its socialist roots and abolish a lot of the old-boy nepotism, making things more meritocratic without completely gutting the family networking the mafia relies upon. It would be good for everybody even though the rich old men getting squeezed would be loudly unhappy about it. Well, might be loudly unhappy if they aren't terrified her Sky would incinerate them for it.

"What would happen to us if Boss was running the Vongola?" the tall Mist asks worriedly.

"I'd probably get stuck with middle-management," Xanna says dryly, "at least until Squalo is out of school." Turns out she has a knack for paperwork; Xanxus is utterly delighted by it.

"That could be cool," the no-longer-hysterically-giggling Mist considers thoughtfully. "You think we're all lunatics but you like us anyway."

"I know you're all lunatics," Xanna sighs, "but Boss has decided you are his lunatics so I feel attached."

"Aw, don't be like that Sprite," Mab says mischievously, wrapping an arm around her waist, "we've added a new Varia rule especially for you: 'self-mutilation solves nothing, talk to your Squad Leader and Officer if you feel the urge so they can help you find a viable alternative.'"

"Shouldn't it be for Squalo?" Xanna asks, not sure if she should be grateful or despairing that they felt the need to make it a rule. Does this come up often?

"It bothered you, not him," the tall Mist says absently, "so it's your rule."

That makes far too much sense in a way that is pure Varia-logic. Xanna suspects they'll corrupt her eventually and then she'll be stuck.

* * *

Her birthday is, as expected, a glorious train-wreck of an event; the first fight breaks out before all of the guests arrive. The food is excellent though; it's a shame Signora Vongola is too ill to attend.

"They're very… lively," Pantera comments, chin propped on her shoulder and arms around her waist. Xanna isn't entirely sure if this is romantic snuggling or practical usage of a Varia Officer as a human shield, but she supposes it can be both.

"There were twelve poisoning attempts in my first week," she tells him in between bites of pastry, "but they've calmed down since then." She does not mention the occasional outright attacks, all of which have ended up with the perpetrator immobilised in Medical from blunt force trauma; she was warned that there would be tests from her Division and other veterans to make sure she really was Officer Quality, so she has managed not to kill them over it.

"Didn't try anything on me until she was out of the building," Xanxus interjects, sitting down on the blanket by their feet and pulling Pantera's shoes off. Half the blanket is occupied by an intimidating mountain of gifts, most of them supplied by Varia assassins; opening them is going to be interesting. But really, they waited to ambush Xanxus until she wasn't even in the general vicinity?

Xanna considers that as her Sky fishes through the hastily-assembled basket of nail polish bottles in search of one that matches her boyfriend's shirt. It is a pink shirt, like Xanxus's is, but a darker pink than the last two shirts have been. "You've never needed my help in a fight and you're better at identifying poisons than I am," she points out.

"Lightning," he shrugs, finally settling on a bottle and shaking it vigorously.

"Ah yes, glorious prejudice," Xanna says dryly as she leans back into Pantera, who is not protesting her Sky's decision to paint his toenails. "Never mind that behaviour is cultural."

"So what do you see your role in Xanxus's life as being?" her boyfriend asks.

"I'm his enabler," Xanna replies promptly. Anything Xanxus wants to do, she clears the way and makes sure he knows the risks so he can make an informed choice. She usually only actually interferes when he is being attacked emotionally, which generally happens in verbal confrontations with adults who should know better. Her Sky is still only fifteen; he's not really grown into himself yet.

"Not very Vongola," Pantera agrees, "but you're good for him."

"Thanks," Xanxus says dryly, not looking up from the Superbi Heir's feet in his lap.

"Rumours about you when you were younger were a bit scary," Pantera replies mildly, "but you calmed down a lot when Sprite entered your life and people realised you weren't actually a baby psychopath. Just very smart, very strong and a bit of a brat."

"He's still a brat," Xanna interjects, not much liking the serious turn the conversation has taken.

"Your brat," Xanxus agrees, smirking briefly at her.

"Always; besides, your father deserves it," Xanna agrees. "A little adversity is good for the soul."

"Your good deed of the decade," Xanxus nods seriously.

Pantera huffs in her ear, the sound amused. "So is painting nails a common birthday activity?"

Xanxus grins evilly. "Ulterior motive," he admits candidly.

"Oh?"

"Francesco's coming and he's due a check-up on his foot," Xanna explains, "and Xanxus set the price of that as getting his toenails done. In perpetuity."

"And?" Pantera can tell that's not the end of the story.

"Squalo's getting a reminder," Xanxus says matter-of-factly. A reminder that they're upset that he values himself so little. A reminder that they want him to take care of himself better in the future. A reminder that it's not just him against the world now and he can ask them for help.

"My poor cousin," Pantera murmurs, the smile audible. "Carry on then."

* * *

"Oi! What's going on?" Squalo looks like he knows exactly what's going on and wants it to stop.

"Sit," Xanxus tells him firmly, pointing at a patch on blanket to his left without taking his eyes off the narrow orange stripes he is painting on Lussuria's lime green fingernails.

Squalo sits, abrupt as a puppet with the strings cut. "Happy, birthday, you," he adds, glancing across at her before his eyes wander back towards his Sky but stop at Pantera's bright pink toenails. "Hey! You let him do it to you too?"

"Not hurting anybody," Pantera drawls, helping himself to some melon and ham off Xanna's fork.

"You shitty cat, stop it!"

"Yes, get your own food," Xanna interjects.

"You're sitting on me," Pantera points out, fingers playing idly across the top of her thigh.

"So?" Xanna's been cheerfully serving herself from the buffet table without getting up for the past half-hour. She's not about to get up when her boyfriend's hands on her feel so wonderful.

Squalo rises to his feet as abruptly as he just sat down. "I'll get food."

"No," Xanxus says flatly. Squalo glares.

"I'm hungry!"

"Sprite, food." Xanna rolls her eyes.

"Right away, Boss." She glances at the very grumpy fourteen-year-old who is sitting down again, arms folded sulkily. "Preferences?"

"Just get a bit of everything to try, then we can decide what we want more of," Pantera suggests. "We can't see much from here."

"Point." Xanna concentrates. "Hands to yourself just while I do this, please." She ignores Squalo's quiet gagging at the 'mushy crap' as she loads up a pair of serving plates from the wide range of dishes on display, taking care to avoid the occasional poisoned bits.

Squalo instantly steals all the tuna carpaccio and half of the sushi, piling it up on the napkin in his lap and sliding out of reach so nobody can take any of it back. Then he snags a slice of tuna with his fingers and stuffs it into his mouth whole.

"Cousin," Pantera chides.

"What?" It's muffled because Squalo has his mouth full of raw fish while glaring belligerently.

"Would you like chopsticks, Squalo?" Xanna asks practically. There's no way he can negotiate a knife and fork with only one hand and the lack of plate would just make it harder, but chopsticks are more versatile.

Squalo chews and swallows. "Please," he admits.

Xanna brings a pair over; the Rain Officer's next mouthful is rather more graceful. Pantera sighs and helps himself to olives one-handed, the other hand tracing idle shapes on her thigh. Xanxus steals a few slices of beef, patting her foot in passing.

"Breast cancer awareness month is October," says Francesco from behind her, "but if you'd told me there was a theme I could have joined in."

Xanxus finally releases Lussuria's hand and looks up properly as the Sun Officer wanders off to break up another fight. "Your mother," he says, somewhat nonsensically as most people probably aren't aware that Francesco lost his mother to breast cancer four years ago. "We could do a fundraiser."

"That could be fun," their friend agrees, walking around into her field of vision and revealing that along with the unsubtly Sunny hitman perched on his shoulder, he's also brought his little brother along. "Raise awareness at formal events for a few months beforehand, than do a sponsored something?"

"Horse race? Road race?" Xanna suggests easily. "Target shooting? Make a big day of it with multiple events and have the betting houses pledge to donate half their profits?"

"Sounds good," Xanxus agrees, grabbing Squalo's ankle and unlacing his boot.

"Hey, Boss! What're you doing? Stop!"

Her Sky eyeballs the younger boy. "Penalty," he states implacably.

Squalo wilts, shoulders hunching. "Seriously, Boss?"

"So I'm not the only one paying that price now?" Francesco asks brightly. Squalo glances sideways at him.

"What did you do?"

"I got my foot cut off during a kidnapping attempt because I wasn't paying attention," the Cavallone Heir says promptly. "Xanxus made me a better prosthetic than the hospital standard, but he now gets to paint my toenails any colour he likes."

"Dumbass," the fourteen-year-old snorts.

"Masochist," Xanna counters calmly.

"HEY! I AM NOT!" Everybody within ten metres of Squalo winces at the volume; Xanxus instantly whacks the younger teen around the head with the boot in his hands. "OW!"

"So Squalo's getting his nails painted like my brother?" Dino asks timidly.

"Yes," Xanxus says firmly, having removed Squalo's socks as well and now digging through the basket next to him for a colour.

Squalo huffs and turns his attention back to the food.

Xanxus finally settles on a bright medium blue –barely used– and goes to work. Francesco heads over to the buffet table and serves himself and his little brother with generous quantities of food, making sure to avoid the poisoned bits. Certain Varia are deliberately not avoiding the poisoned bits, which makes identification a bit trickier; using Flames to pinpoint food contamination is partly instinct and it's hard to follow your instincts when your eyes are providing you with potentially conflicting evidence.

Xanna knows a lot of the Varia are immune to specific poisons and a few are skilled enough to no-sell entire toxin categories, making 'but they are eating it' a distinctly unreliable means of determining food safety. Nothing on the buffet table is actually lethal either singly or combined –by order of the Varia Boss and on pain of pain– but any unwary eater will regret their life choices in short order.

"Hey!" Xanxus ignores the protest, quickly cleaning Squalo's fingers with a wet wipe and drying them on the edge of his shirt before giving the polish bottle another shake and unscrewing the lid again. "Boss?" It's more of a whine than anything else.

"Hand too?" Francesco says sympathetically as he settles next to them, Dino sticking close. Xanna's not sure where the hitman has gone but hopefully he won't get himself killed trying to snoop around the home base of a bunch of highly trained assassins.

"Critical thinking," Xanxus says shortly, not looking up.

"It's a nice blue?" Dino offers tentatively, flinching back when Squalo bares his teeth.

Xanxus finishes and caps the bottle. "Smudge it and I redo it in pink," he warns the younger Superbi before helping himself to more food; she'll need to replenish the plates in a bit, they're running low.

"Yes Boss," Squalo grumbles, waving his hand around aimlessly and occasionally glaring at his fingernails.

"This is fun, we'll have to do it again," Pantera says idly as past the buffet table another two separate fights break out, one of them quickly engulfing half-a-dozen assassins.

"What, watch Varia arguments or go on picnics?" Xanna asks quietly.

"We can't do both?" she shivers at the kiss he presses behind her ear.

"Not all the time, they'd catch on."

"Point." Teeth scrape lightly on her neck. "Picnic next Saturday on the Superbi Estate?"

Xanna shuffles even closer to her boyfriend, who is a very charming tease. "Sounds good," she agrees huskily.

"So when are you opening the presents?" Claudio asks, wandering over and throwing himself down on the grass, which matches his hair colour. Today anyway.

"Presents!" Shouts an assassin several metres away and there's a sudden rush to surround them.

"Look what you did," Xanna says flatly, glaring at the older of the D'Ignoto step-siblings. He smiles cheesily up at her, completely unrepentant.

"Presents," Xanxus agrees with a sigh, wiping his hands and reaching under his jacket to produce his recently finished pair of Flame guns.

"Why the guns, Boss?" Squalo asks warily. Everybody in the Varia has seen what those do to solid cement targets and nobody wants twenty-centimetre holes punched through them with pinpoint accuracy from up to a quarter of a kilometre away. Xanxus's marksmanship skills are a bit intimidating considering those are just handguns; Xanna's not sure what kind of range he might achieve with a proper rifle but she's not suggesting he find out either.

"Shoot people who give Sprite banned shit," the Sky says flatly, clicking off the safeties. There's a slight commotion over on the far side of the gift mountain and a small box-slide ensues, almost burying Dino. Somehow she is not surprised.

"So what am I starting with then?" Xanna asks, unsurprised when a package wrapped in holographic paper is instantly shoved into her hands by a nearby assassin. "Okay then, here we go."

* * *

The morning after her birthday –so much cake she doesn't want breakfast and she's going to need to learn four new languages to read all those books– Xanxus dresses them both in casual denim, uses his Flames to curl her hair and 'borrows' one of the motorbikes out of the garage to drive them both to Palermo.

"So what are we doing?" Xanna asks as her Sky chains the bike to a steel railing.

Xanxus straightens up and flicks the rucksack she's wearing. "Visiting my other grandma," he tells her, tone studiously neutral. "Grandma… grandma insisted." A quick, short breath. "I'm inviting her over for tea."

So Signora Vongola had weaselled out of Xanxus that her favourite dead cousin has a mistress still among the living and that said mistress is his grandmother by blood, and wants to bring the family together. How very in character. "What is she bribing you with?" Because Xanxus wouldn't be here doing it in person if Signora Vongola wasn't holding something over his head.

Xanxus shifts and kicks a few loose rock chips, shoving his hands into his pockets as he hunches his shoulders. "Tests."

Ah. Well. Of course she can set that up much more discreetly than Xanxus can, as nobody's going to question her wanting blood samples from her son and grandsons for a medical thing, even if she never specifies what the medical thing is. Xanna loops her arm around his and leans into him, for all the world like a couple of teens on a date. "Lead on then."

* * *

Clio Marino takes one look at Xanxus and knows instantly that he is related to 'her Giotto'. Once they are hustled inside her apartment and served drinks Xanxus eventually manages to mumble that her daughter Elena was his mother and is instantly and fiercely hugged, much to his surprise. Xanna suspects her Sky has inherited more than just a little of his grandmother's personality; this tiny, energetic lady is _ferocious_ and going by her muttering has no patience for denial, delusion and the other kinds of human weakness her daughter has displayed in keeping her grandson's existence from her. They spend the next three hours being told all about her wartime escapades –apparently it had been her not wanting to marry Giotto rather than the other way around which was unusual considering the period but not massively so– and being shown lots and lots of photographs, including quite a few of Xanxus's late mother.

They also end up walking off with most of those photographs, because she insists her grandson should have them. Including almost all the pictures of her and Giotto taken before and during the war, most of the pictures of Xanxus's mother –'you would only inherit them in a few more years anyway'– and in exchange extracts a promise of future visits and contact details, as well as legal details like name, birth-date and so on. As Xanxus now has a legal identity not mired in mafia complications he gives her that, lets her know about Signora Vongola's invitation and then barely manages to talk his way out of staying for lunch.

Xanna can tell her Sky is shaken by the instant and unquestioning affection poured out for him by his mother's mother and lets herself be steered off in a different direction to the motorbike once they leave Signora Marino's apartment building.

Xanxus finds a bar with the unerring instincts granted by being unfairly brilliant at sensing latent Flame impressions –people in bars apparently have a 'feel' to them even when not drinking alcohol– drags her into the back, sits at a table and pulls her down onto his lap, the bridge of his nose resting against her temple. Xanna catches the waiter's eye, orders them both 'whatever the chef recommends' for lunch and a bottle of a local wine label she knows her Sky genuinely likes. Xanxus just lets her, which says a lot about how settled he isn't.

The waiter brings them a basket of mixed fresh bread, a bowl of olives and two glasses of aperitif entirely unprompted; clearly asking for the house special has won them points despite their being strangers here. Or else he feels for Xanxus, who right now has the look of somebody who just wants the universe to stop for a bit so he can catch up.

Xanxus tangles a hand in her hair and breathes out sharply. "She loves me," he says quietly in German.

"You are her grandson," Xanna points out gently in the same language.

"I told her and she…" Xanxus shakes his head abruptly. "She believed me. She loved me instantly."

"If you found out you had a child, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, but…"

"You had to get that from somewhere," Xanna points out mildly. It's not entirely true that all of a person's innate nature is dictated by genetics –choices matter– but these things do often run in families.

"Why?" It's very quiet and almost plaintive.

"You are very loveable," Xanna tells him frankly. "It makes complete sense to me, because I love you like that too." It's nothing at all like 'falling in love', being far more substantial an emotional commitment, although she'd very much like to build a relationship this solid with Pantera to go with the giddy feelings they share.

Xanxus huffs a short, not-quite laugh in her ear, lifts his head up and grabs the nearest glass of aperitif. "I have two badass grandmas," he says wonderingly, "and they're going to meet."

"Talk about you and share stories," Xanna agrees.

"Oh." Xanxus looks apprehensive all of a sudden and takes a sip of his drink to disguise it. "I… I was a bit wild before you came along." Implying that there are some stories to tell that put him in a really bad light. Or, far more likely, put Don Vongola's parenting skills in a really bad light.

"Kids are kids," Xanna says bracingly. "You grew out of it, so now they're just amusing stories for old ladies to gossip about." She does wonder if Pantera's heard any of those though, and if so whether he could be persuaded to share them.

"You dragged me out of it," Xanxus mumbles, resting his forehead against her skull again. "You were there, it all affected you more, you needed me; protecting you was more important."

Xanna wraps her arms around his waist and squeezes gently. "You did the same for me, you know. You gave me something to focus on so I didn't fall apart over having lost everything." That could very easily have happened as the shock of her drastic change in circumstances faded.

Xanxus takes another long sip of his drink, then snags a breadstick; Xanna takes this as her cue to dig into the appetisers alongside him.

They end up fighting over the last breadstick just as the waiter brings the main course, but it's all in good fun.

* * *

The next month passes in a blur of training, paperwork and dates with Pantera; Xanxus also takes a number of missions, but Xanna chooses not to. There's no obligation to and her Officer pay along with the Guardian pay she still gets from the Vongola coffers is more than enough to keep her solvent. She does not want to kill people just because somebody is willing to pay money to see them dead, so she doesn't. Triton comments on it around Xanxus once, but her Boss makes it abundantly clear that this is her choice so the subject never comes up again.

Well, not directly; it probably has some bearing on one of her Squad Leaders abruptly deciding to murder her halfway through a training session in mid-May.

Not that he succeeds.

"So, what brought this on?" she asks, knocking two of the umbrella-swords out of the air with her wing-blades before the attack can land.

"You are unworthy of Boss!" the massive fifteen-year-old bellows, catching the two nearest umbrella-swords and wielding them like spikes. "Die!"

Xanna dodges easily. "It's not about worth, you know. It's about what Boss wants."

"You're weak! You've never killed anybody! You're going to get Boss killed!" He launches another attack at her; Xanna tries to remember his name. She's not too hot on names; it took her two years to consistently remember the names of everybody in her class and there's more than ten times that number in the Varia. She should at least remember her Squad Leaders… "Levi Volta!" Oh right, his name's Levi. Leviathan actually, but most people stick to the short version.

The accusations slide off her without hitting home; she's heard it all before and no matter what he thinks, his words are not true. He knows she's not weak, he's just telling himself that because he's obsessed and furious. She's not going to get Xanxus killed because she knows her limits and takes care not to push them in risky situations. As for never having killed… hah. Being disinclined to murder for money just means that money isn't enough for her. She's killed for Xanxus before.

"Lie, lie and lie again," she sighs, dodging again and breaking two of the umbrella-swords. "Seriously, pay more attention."

Levi screams and charges. He's nearly thirty centimetres taller than she is, probably half her weight again and his reach is impressive, but she's used to fighting Xanxus and her Sky is much faster than this. She's got more important things to do than toy with an obsessed fifteen-year-old though, so she breaks a few bones –insubordination can't go unpunished– and knocks him unconscious.

A week later she catches him murdering his Squad in the guise of a training exercise; he's dead before he even hits the floor but she does manage to save two of his men. There's a change in the atmosphere after that, which is vaguely annoying. It's not that she's an idealist obsessed with the sanctity of life, she just doesn't want to kill people on somebody else's say-so. Not even her Sky's say-so, but especially not the say-so of somebody rich and privileged enough to hire assassins to do their dirty work for them. Pantera gets it; why can't more people?

* * *

It's not even two days after having killed one of her strongest Squad Leaders and she's lounging on the couch while Xanxus does paperwork when one of the Storms shoves the door open. "Boss, Triton just got murdered by a new recruit!"

Xanxus barely glances up. "Did he fill out the paperwork first?" Meaning, is the recruit officially Varia.

"Er, yes Boss," the Storm concedes, "but Boss, the kid's eight."

Xanna very deliberately lifts up her book so her Sky can't catch her eye and fob this off on her. She's having enough trouble with her own Division and helping out with the Rains without adding Storm Division to her workload and she's not giving up her leisure time. She's got a date tomorrow with Pantera and he's taking her out to a potter's workshop because she was curious where the hand-painted vase in his sitting room had come from. She's looking forward to it.

There is a scrape of a chair being pushed back across a marble floor. "Anybody Named him yet?"

"No Boss."

The door closes; Xanna lowers her book again but does not pause in her reading, despite being vaguely curious about what kind of eight-year-old would try to join the Varia. She has a feeling she's forgotten a lot of the fine details and a few of the characters from that story she only really remembers as images, character studies and a plotline now.

* * *

"Unhand me peasant!"

Xanna takes it all back, she's not curious at all anymore. This tiny brat is far worse than Xanxus ever was and probably has several really important screws entirely missing, never mind loose. That doesn't mean she's going to let him walk all over her though.

"Boss has put me in charge of your education," –because he wants me to suffer– "so no, I'm not putting you down. You didn't show up when you were told to." He's wickedly good with those knives and wires even without resorting to Flames, but Xanna's Flame-blades double as shields and let her no-sell his preferred combat style. Carrying him around is a pain though as he keeps trying to stab her and his Will is formidable. Lucky for her he's only eight and she's had lots of practice protecting herself from sharp edges.

"I am a prince! I do not answer to summons from peasants!" And fuck the royalty thing, seriously. He probably is a prince –there's enough dispossessed royalty floating around Europe or lurking on family estates after World War Two– but she doesn't care. Blood is not sufficient in itself to command respect.

"Boss has granted me his authority in this matter," Xanna says mildly, calling on her diplomatic training. "Disrespecting me is disrespecting Boss."

No more stabbing attempts are made and the kicking stops; he's sulking now, arms folded across her upper back. "Peasant."

"I'm not a peasant, I'm the fairy who wasn't invited to the christening but showed up anyway, bestowed a blessing the parents did not appreciate and then refused to leave." It's even true: she's damn sure she's not from around here; her presence in Xanxus's life is certainly something his father objects to; and her methodical deconstruction of her Sky's unconscious acceptance of narrow gender roles is definitely not appreciated at _all_.

Belphegor –of course Boss would Name him after a demon– twitches. "You have wings," he says after several seconds' silence.

That was not a question, so Xanna doesn't bother answering it. Instead she pushes open the door to the suite she shares with her Sky, walks past him and the Squad submitting their report and through the door opposite the bedroom, closing it behind her.

"Why not your office?" Belphegor asks as she sets him back on his feet and walks across her sitting room to sit down on the couch. There's another larger fainting couch and an armchair in here, so he can sit where he likes.

"I'm not doing this as the Lightning Officer, I'm doing it as the only one of Boss's personal dependents who is legally adult," Xanna tells him. This is not a Varia matter, not really; this is about Xanxus wanting Belphegor to have more than murder in his skillset. "Boss wants you to continue your education, so I am arranging it."

"I am a genius and do not need to go to school." Utterly arrogant but apparently truthful; fine, she can work with that.

"If you test out of the middle and high school material I will arrange for you to complete the university course of your choice through distance learning," she tells him, "but there is a lot of mafia material usually integrated into the local school curriculum that you will need to learn regardless. I can arrange a tutor for that." Probably the Head of Varia Housekeeping; he trains the apprentices and has practice instilling all the Vongola-specific and generic Underworld information into the young brains of Varia hopefuls. He's also very straightforward about discipline, which Xanna really likes, and will probably be good for the new Storm Officer.

The eight-year-old sprawls proprietorially over the armchair. "No school?" He checks warily, fiddling with a knife and probably eying her from somewhere under that fringe.

"School would not benefit you," Xanna says bluntly. Squalo is attending school for the grounding influence and the social connections; education is a distant third in her priorities there. He's probably going to skip ahead next year and cut a lot of ties, but even attending just one more year would be enough as the Varia recruits people in the fifteen-to-sixteen age bracket so he will have actual people his age working around him by then, even if they never really become his friends. Belphegor on the other hand doesn't know anybody, wouldn't respect the teachers and probably is as intellectually brilliant as he thinks he is. School would be a disaster.

"The prince will take your stupid tests then," the new Storm Officer concedes grandly, toothy smile spreading across his face again. "University material might be challenging."

"Fantastic," Xanna says brightly. "I know you're fluent in at least seven languages so you shouldn't have any trouble with your Division's paperwork; the General Manager can explain the details and feel free to drag the veterans into providing any necessary assistance. I'll get back to you once I've got the first round of tests set up." She still remembers wrangling Xanxus at slightly older than this, the trick is assume competence while providing means of obtaining excellence.

"The prince will see you later," Belphegor announces, hopping out of the chair and sauntering confidently out of the room.

Xanna lets him leave, makes a note to herself to get hold of a range of middle school and equivalent test materials –Belphegor is unlikely to meet the local education standards being probably from somewhere in northern Europe– and talk to some of the Academy's teachers about civilian schooling requirements for high school graduation. There's bound to be lists somewhere that she can tailor to her needs.

Well, at least this will make a fun story to tell Pantera on their next date.

* * *

There's a major Vongola event on the summer solstice, an all-night ball that only differs from the winter solstice ball in allowing less formal –and therefore lighter– clothing and not being a masquerade. It starts at the same time of day, ends at the same time of day and all the same people are invited.

Of course since both balls start at sunset and end at sunrise, the summer one is actually a whole lot shorter: starting at half-past eight and finishing at a quarter to six the following morning. Since the weather's warmer people also tend to spill out into the gardens of the Iron Fort rather than staying in the ballroom and associated areas; Xanxus likes the summer ball much more as he can wander around the gardens all night and be firmly out of reach of Don Vongola, who is not as mobile as he used to be.

This year's summer ball is… interesting, as it marks the start of the Vongola, Superbi and Cavallone Heirs' breast cancer awareness campaign and involves some rather confusing double booking. For instance, Xanna is supposed to be attending both as Xanxus's Guardian and as the Superbi Heir's plus one. Xanxus is also required to have a plus one –it being a ball– but is currently in a stable relationship of some kind with his Sun Officer and not at all inclined to break it off or take some random woman along as a smokescreen.

A considerable quantity of coordination and discussion later and Xanna is helping Lussuria with his –her?– dress, Xanxus having already dressed her and applied her makeup to his satisfaction. She is wearing a simple black cocktail dress with an asymmetrical hem, contrasting pink nail varnish and lipstick for the required theme and her hair is pinned up on the top of her head to keep her neck cool. Her Sky is of course wearing a pink shirt, just as Francesco will be, but Pantera has been making noises about a pink suit so Xanna very firmly decided that she would be wearing black to complement him. There is such a thing as too much pink and it's not her best colour.

Lussuria is wearing a very fashionable deep purple satin dress with a neckline that flatters their shoulders and flared skirts that completely obscure their narrow hips. They've dyed their hair pink specially and are currently applying makeup to match; Xanna has to wonder how many people are going to assume her Sky is currently seeing a civilian bodybuilder rather than a Varia assassin. It's likely to be an irritatingly large number.

Squalo is sulking about having to attend at all, but as he's Xanxus's official Guardian for this event he's been allowed to get away with a plain suit and a pale pink tie. He's technically wearing pink nail polish too, but the fourteen-year-old has found a pair of white kid gloves that fit him and is refusing to take them off. His hair is getting shaggy but he won't let her cut it; something about a promise to Xanxus. She's trying to talk him into having his fringe trimmed and some shaping so it looks less untidy, but he's still thinking about it at the moment.

"How do I look, sugar?" Lussuria twitters, spinning around gracefully. Xanna isn't sure where the other Officer learned to walk in heels but they look very comfortable in them. Xanna is envious of that grace, if not of the heels themselves; heels are pretty but impractical for extended wear.

"Stunning," she says firmly. "Let's head downstairs to see if everybody else has turned up, shall we?"

It turns out that, yes, her date has somehow managed to get his hands on a pink suit. It looks amazing on him; Don Vongola is going to hate it.

* * *

Xanna wakes up on the day following the ball to Xanxus chucking an inch-thick folder onto her bare stomach. "Ow." She glares up at him, fumbling her hair off her face. "Wha' was 'at for?"

"Results," her Sky says grumpily, dropping heavily onto the mattress and making the entire bed bounce. Xanna sighs, fumbles open the fastening and levers herself up onto an elbow to make reading easier, the heavy stack of printouts sliding off her stomach onto the sheets and forcing her to rescue them before they flutter off the bed entirely. There's a lot more here than just paternity tests; she hadn't realised the Vongola has the technology for gene-mapping at this point in time. It's not amazingly detailed, but it's still far more than she ever expected to get.

Xanxus drags himself closer as soon as she picks up the papers and rolls over so his forehead is resting against the hollow of her throat, his breath hot against her sternum through her ruched-up pyjama shirt as one knee forces its way between hers. Its days like this when she's glad she doesn't have much in the way of breasts, because otherwise getting flopped on would hurt. Xanna ignores the dramatics and tries to wake her brain up enough to decode medical jargon before food.

Thankfully there are graphs. Graphs are easy, even with incomprehensible words attached.

"Your grandma was really thorough," she says eventually, shuffling through the folder and skipping over most of the stupidly long words. Signora Vongola has not just tested Xanxus' blood against her son's, but against nearly forty other men of recognised Vongola descent. There're several family trees attached, to demonstrate her reasoning for selecting those men in particular. She's even helpfully highlighted the places on the family trees where people of Vongola blood have married out of the Alliance over the past two centuries, as starting points for future investigations.

Because not one of these people is Xanxus's father, or even shares a Y-chromosome with him. On the other hand… Xanna flips back a few pages and squints at another graph, this one actually in colour.

"Xanxus, you have a rather suspicious number of genetic markers in common with Carlo Molinaro, Gianfranco Lanza and Battista Visconti. Not the same markers either."

"Molinaro's Giotto's great-nephew," her Sky grumbles into her chest. He means the younger Giotto who is his grandfather, not the founder of the Vongola.

"Yes, I can see," Xanna says patiently, "but we know he's your second cousin. The thing is, are the other two your second cousins on your father's side?"

"Hm." It's at least a considering grumble. Xanna flicks back to one of the family trees.

"Gianfranco's father had a sister who married civilian and had children. Her husband's been dead awhile, but she isn't and she has grandkids. Battista has various aunts, sisters and daughters, some of whom married civilians." All statistics are lies and common genetics does not guarantee a recent or direct connection, but they provide a starting point.

"Why do I look like Ninth's sons?" Xanxus mumbles grumpily. Xanna flicks back through the paperwork for that comparison, checking repeatedly with four different family trees as she tries to make sense of what she's seeing. She knows why he's asking her; biology is her field, not his, and he can't see the potential in the connections, like she can't make sense of physics without his help.

"Mostly because when First founded the Vongola he dragged along with him two brother-in-laws, his half-brother Ricardo who later inherited the Family, four other younger half-siblings and two older stepbrothers who were Ricardo's half-siblings by his mother's first husband," Xanna tells him, squinting at the names and numbers. "Many of whom married into various Alliance families, partly to consolidate said alliances but mostly because they were there and not closely related. Then Second went and had about thirteen children by two successive wives, who also all married and had kids. Although your grandma really doesn't think Third actually fathered his wife's daughters for some reason." The tree has the dotted line indicating uncertain paternity, like Sixth's bastard children have.

"Third had subtext with his Rain Guardian," Xanxus mutters, tilting his head sideways a bit, "who was Alliata. Went out enforcing order with him a lot and left his wife with his Lightning Guardian. Who was a Lanza. Third's daughters apparently looked like his Lightning's sister."

Ah. Interesting family subtext there then. "Anyway, my point was every family in the Alliance has married into First and Second's collective extended family multiple times, then all married each-other. Then done it again. There are second and third cousins marrying all over the place and no few half-cousins doing it too. So Don Vongola's kids are descended from Second through both their father and mother, but also from First's mother's family and Second's older half-brothers. In fact I think the Lanza are basically Second's older half-brothers on the not-Vongola side, which makes things complicated because First made Second his heir, so technically all the Lanza are half-Vongola even without them marrying back into the bloodline afterwards; mostly via their step-cousins' kids." This is more of a family thicket than a tree. Anyway, she needs to get to the point.

"So some genes and combinations are more expressive than others. Second's genes are spread all over the Alliance. The more expressive complexes can therefore form independently in separate lineages, creating uncanny resemblances due to a limited gene pool and probably Flames, because those have to affect things somehow. So you look a hell of a lot like Enrico and Federico despite being only their fourth cousin, and nothing like Cesco despite being his second cousin. Partly because Signora Vongola's mother was Visconti and you've got a bit of that probably from your father's side, and the Molinaro have married into the Alliata various times which is possibly why your mother was blonde like Cesco and Dino, since the Alliata line favours blond hair somehow despite it genetically being recessive." Flames make inheritance a bit weird despite not actually overriding the basic genetics. It just somehow made unlikely combinations more likely to get handed down to the next generation. "Don Vongola's Alliata wife had black hair but her sister was blonde."

"Genetic lottery," Xanxus deduces grumpily, mashing his nose and forehead against her sternum, "and stacked in favour."

"Basically." Xanna's more curious about the red eyes though, as her Sky is definitely not albino so those have to be a dominant trait. Signora Vongola has in fact checked Xanxus's blood specifically against a couple of male descendents of Second's oldest daughter who just so happen to have red eyes. There's not enough in common for paternity –or even for a reliable indication of cousinhood– but it is apparently the same gene complex. Exactly identical, implying a common ancestor; very interesting when Second's first wife was called Maria Simon and there's no record anywhere of a Simon mafia family. Or any record whatsoever of a single man with Simon as a surname living anywhere in or near Vongola territory after eighteen-twenty-five; Maria is one of three women, all married to men with Alliance surnames. That is pretty unsettling when the attached copies of church and census records indicate there were five large families in three villages vaguely clustered around where the Varia is now who were called that just five years before that date.

Cover-up? A family feud gone horribly wrong? Feud gone horribly right and then completely forgotten by the winning side? Either way, it's a dead end.

Xanxus makes a frustrated noise into her chest. Xanna rubs the back of his head comfortingly. "Don't want to bring a Mist into things," he complains, voice muffled.

"Explain why you would need to, please?" Xanna's not sure what difference adding a random Mist will make.

Xanxus plants his elbow in the mattress by her waist and levers himself up just far enough that he can sprawl his other forearm across her chest and prop his chin up on it. "There's a Mist-trick that uses blood to tell who your parents and grandparents are," he says gruffly. "Not reliable further back, but is accurate."

"So why doesn't it get used enough to be common knowledge and a first port of call?"

"Because accurate." Making it preferable for unfaithful spouses to take steps to discredit the method and the people who can use it; human nature, love it or die screaming. That's a fun line actually; she'll have to remember it to tell Pantera. He'll laugh.

"So which Mist are you bringing into things?" Xanna asks pragmatically.

Xanxus glares at her resentfully.

"Look, you want to know," she points out, "even though you already know you're Vongola enough to be eligible to inherit. This isn't about the Alliance anymore; it's about you and what you want. Pay a Mist to write a contract, then pay another one to sign it and do the blood trick. Now let me up, I need to use the toilet."

Xanxus rolls off her with a groan, arm flopping across his eyes like a brooding Byronic hero. Xanna heads for the bathroom; she should have a shower too since she's clearly not going to get any more sleep.

Pouty teenage melodrama is an improvement on both misery and directionless rage, but not by much.

* * *

"Officer?" Xanna side-eyes the assassin sidling up to her as she moves her name onto the 'in' board, having just got back from a very enjoyable weekend with her boyfriend. Her eyes slide onwards to the other half-dozen shifty loiterers hovering behind him and trying to look casual, despite it being past four in the morning and not at all plausible a time to be hanging around in the front hall. Even at the height of summer.

"Is there a problem?" she asks mildly, setting down her bag. She's in a fantastic mood right now and doesn't particularly want to spoil it.

"Er, Boss is…" the assassin whose name she cannot remember –she is so terrible with names but she's mostly sure this one is not a Squad Leader so there's that– trails off.

"He's singing," one of the other assassins volunteers helplessly. "Singing terrible eighties pop."

"How terrible?" Xanna asks curiously; Xanxus doesn't sing often, not unless he's in an incredibly buoyant mood and doesn't care who knows it. He generally sticks to rock music though; pop is her guilty pleasure not his.

"Culture Club," another assassin says, sounding pained at even admitting to recognising the group. "I mean, he started out with good stuff like Queen and Bowie and Billy Idol, the Madness was at least funny and so was the Michael Jackson, but then he wandered into Bonnie Tyler and Boy George and everything went sideways."

"Into Cyndi Lauper and Madonna," the first assassin specifies, "then back again."

"Although Boss singing 'Girls Just Want To Have Fun' was pretty cool," an assassin at the back says thoughtfully.

"He hits all the high notes," Xanna agrees; her Sky has a very versatile voice.

"I could have done without hearing him sing 'Like A Virgin' at two in the morning though," a familiar Mist comments, prompting a chorus of groans.

Xanna can't help laughing; the mental image is hysterical. "Did he get laid today?" That's the only thing she can think of that would put him into this good a mood, considering he's still not come to a decision concerning the Mist-trick blood-reading and it's been keeping him irritable.

"Lussuria's on a mission," the first assassin says, "and if getting laid makes Boss sing 'Karma Chameleon' six times through at half-past three in the morning then I may have to retire tomorrow so as to avoid ever hearing it again."

"Okay, point, that's not usual," Xanna agrees; her Sky doesn't even _like_ that song. "What was he doing today?"

"Something in Medical, I think," another assassin –she's pretty sure that one's a veteran Storm– tells her. "Oh and he was in his workshop for several hours before and after too."

Xanna opens her mouth to speak and pauses as an unmistakable whistled tune floats down the stairs, followed by the sound of Xanxus singing Bee Gees. Specifically 'Stayin' Alive'. Very loudly. At half-past four in the morning.

"Either this is an aberrant drug reaction or he's drunker than I've _ever_ heard him," she manages just before her Sky sways into view. And yes, no matter how clear and strong his voice he's listing like a ship at sea and his eyes are unevenly focused. He's not even wearing any eye-liner, his shirt is badly rumpled and he seems to have lost his jacket.

Xanxus vaults easily over the second-storey banister, sticks the landing and sweeps her off her feet in a bear hug, still singing.

"What's the occasion?" Xanna asks in a pause, levering herself up by his shoulder and bracing herself against his hip as Xanxus sways to music only he can hear.

Her Sky beams at her. "I haven't slept in three days," he sings cheerfully, still to the tune of 'Stayin' Alive'.

Oh, this must be insomnia-induced mania then; of course it would happen when Pantera takes her out for a weekend by the sea in one of the holiday apartments his family owns. "Why not?"

"There was coffee, and now I cannot rest," he sings back to her, still ridiculously upbeat.

"Must have been Tyrant's coffee, Officer," one of the assassins behind her opines. "It's," he pauses, "pretty fierce."

Xanxus stops singing 'Stayin' Alive' and moves onto 'You Should Be Dancing', bouncing and sliding cheerfully across the marble with his arms around her and her feet dangling. Xanna succumbs to giggles, leaning into her Sky and unable to string two words together coherently. That's partly the fault of the cadre of assassins watching the show, who are all amusingly wide-eyed in varying shades of shocked and gleeful. She is _definitely_ telling 'Tera all about this next time she sees him, it's too good not to share.

When he finishes Xanna attempts a few bars of Lionel Richie and Xanxus picks it up, belting out 'Dancing On The Ceiling' at the top of his lungs and tossing her in the air several times to punctuate the pauses and make her squeak.

"Xan, something slower please?" she begs when he finishes. "I'm tired even if you aren't." Plus if she can maybe get him to slow down he might finally keel over and actually sleep.

"Mmhm," her Sky mumbles, shifting his grip on her waist so she's partly slung over his shoulder, then heading back towards the staircase again. He starts singing DeBarge before even going three steps, so Xanna leans into him and enjoys the impromptu performance of 'Rhythm Of The Night' all the way up the stairs and along the hallways to their suite. Xanxus then carries her into the bedroom, drops her on the bed and pauses like he's not sure what happens next.

Xanna takes the initiative. "Want to cuddle for a bit?" He might not sleep, but resting a bit would still be good.

"Yeah," her Sky admits quietly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and tugging off his boots. Well, trying to. Xanna rolls off the bed and unlaces them for him, then removes his socks and unbuttons his shirt as well before helping him shimmy out of his trousers, all of which are a bit rank from having been worn for so long; he's probably had a shower since going on this particular bender but not more than one. Xanxus reciprocates by taking off her blouse, an adorable furrow between his eyebrows as he struggles with the buttons. Xanna slips out of her sandals and shorts, removes her bra –after gently moving her Sky's fumbling hands away from the straps– then shoves back the sheets and climbs in without bothering to look for her pyjamas. It's hot, she doesn't need them. Besides, her current set are probably downstairs by the front door in her abandoned overnight bag.

The mattress bounces and Xanxus is suddenly sprawled across her back, skin slightly cooler than usual. "Tired," he mumbles into her hair, an arm wrapping around her ribs. Xanna is about to reply when he snores in her ear and she realises he's out.

After three days straight on the go her Sky in unlikely to get up at all tomorrow, but the aftermath of this is definitely going to be hilarious.

* * *

"So I hear there was singing."

Xanna glances up in time to catch Xanxus smirking at his boyfriend over the paperwork. "Did you," her Sky says dryly. He slept for twelve hours straight after crashing, woke up for long enough to use the toilet and drink two big glasses of orange juice then crashed again for a further nine hours; he only got up properly about two hours ago. Summer wreaks havoc with every Varia's sleep schedule –it's far too hot for anybody to do anything between twelve and four during daylight hours– so nobody really bats an eye at their Boss getting up at three in the morning. It was the singing, not the being awake, that really freaked people out.

"Apparently you have a very fine singing voice, Boss-honey," Lussuria persists, "so why haven't I heard you sing yet?"

"There will be recordings," Xanxus points out; Xanna agrees that multiple Varia will have done their best to record their Boss's short break from reality, for both entertainment and posterity. Xanna has every intention of getting hold of a copy to share with her boyfriend, because he may not believe her otherwise.

"That's not the _same_ ," the Sun Officer complains, planting his hands on Boss's desk and leaning almost far enough forwards to kiss. "You were singing and I missed it!"

"I was technically insane," her Sky says dryly, raising an amused eyebrow.

Lussuria slumps back slightly and pouts. "Sing me something, Boss-honey?" He wheedles, eyes hidden behind tinted prescription glasses.

Xanxus sighs and leans back in his chair, arms stretching above his head. "Why?"

"I'm asking." There is subtext there but Xanna has been leaving them to get on with their own relationship, so she barely catches the hint of something more under the words.

"If I don't want to?"

"If you didn't want to you'd have said so by now, darling," Lussuria says fondly, taking his hands off the desk and folding his arms smugly.

Xanxus abruptly gets to his feet, walks around the desk and past the Sun Officer to close the door. Lussuria turns around to face him, smirking like a cat by an empty fish tank. Xanna loudly turns the page in the report she's reading, just to remind them that she's in here too and isn't interested in watching them have sex.

"There's something wrong with the world today, I don't know what it is. Something's wrong with our eyes," Xanxus starts, voice clear and strong. Xanna settles in to enjoy the impromptu Aerosmith performance, watching Lussuria close his eyes and sway happily, leaning into Xanxus as the Sky walks into his personal space; she then turns back to her work. They don't really talk much and Xanna's heard from both of them separately that their relationship is mostly sex, but they're enjoying it and that's the important part. Xanna also gets the impression that Xanxus is the first person Lussuria has ever met who validates and nurtures the exploration of his gender and sexuality, which is a very good thing. The Sun Officer is much more comfortable in his own skin these days than he was when Xanna first met him, no matter that the flamboyant façade hasn't changed a bit.

This however is very likely to be the most romantic thing her Sky has ever done on purpose, which is incredibly sweet of him. Xanna knows for a fact Xanxus has never deliberately sung in public before the day before yesterday and he was not in his right mind then; singing's always been something he did while listening to the radio or lying around on those rare slow days when he doesn't feel the need to be doing anything.

Xanxus finishes the song, which segues smoothly into the sound of enthusiastic kissing. Xanna ignores it until the sound effects indicate clothing hitting the floor and serious fumbling with buckles and buttons.

"I am still here and while I might not be entirely opposed to watching, you haven't asked."

"Sorry," Xanxus manages, halfway breathless.

"Whoops," Lussuria giggles.

"Go away, please," Xanxus rumbles quietly. Xanna chances a glare at her Sky –she's only here because he keeps dragging her out of her own office– who is currently slightly less than half-dressed. Lussuria is only more dressed because he's managed to keep hold of his feather boa despite losing both jacket and shirt.

"You owe me," she says firmly, rising to her feet and picking up the rest of her paperwork.

"Can have your boyfriend over for office sex later," Xanxus tells her absently, attention already back on Lussuria; specifically his belt.

"I will hold you to that," Xanna informs him, catching Lussuria's eye and winking on her way out the door. Not that her sex life is anywhere near as active as her Sky's, but she and Pantera are happy taking things slow and her boyfriend has a heart condition that makes these things a little tricky. She does need to call him and find out what his feelings about office sex are though, since she's being offered a pass by her Boss there.

Well she's got a landline in her office so she can ask later. It's still a bit early in the morning for making phone calls.

* * *

Xanna hates July. It's far too hot. She has lived in Sicily for over six years now and she still wilts in the summer heat. Xanxus never has this problem –he loves the heat, lizard that he is– but he recognises that it is a serious problem for her so he joins her on the cool stone floor when they sleep and doesn't expect her to do anything at all between eleven in the morning and five in the afternoon beyond napping and staying hydrated. Even then he is generally providing the drinks, since moving is almost too much for her. She goes to see Pantera some days just for the sea breeze, although having somebody else to sprawl on the floor beside and make desultory conversation with is by no means a hardship. The kisses and languid intimacy are a definite benefit too.

At least being Varia means Xanna is free to become as nocturnal as she wishes for the duration of the summer, unlike before when she had to attend daytime things alongside Xanxus because Don Vongola expected it.

She hates August more, but at least in August everybody else is suffering too.

"Xanna."

She does not move from where she is lying face-down on the marble floor behind the office couch, well out of the way of the sun streaming through the shutters in narrow bands, bright enough to illuminate the room but not intense enough to boil them alive.

There is the sound of boots on stone and her Sky's feet enter her line of sight; Xanxus sits on the floor by her head and holds a sheet of paper in front of her eyes. Xanna takes in the sideways writing, reading the rusty red lettering on autopilot.

Wait a minute; that smell…

"Is this written in blood?"

"Yes."

So he's finally got around to paying somebody to do the family tree trick. Well, that or he's paid them to teach him to do it himself, which Xanna honestly would not put past him. Xanxus can separate out his Sky Flames into its component elements and use most of them singly; he's the person who taught her to use her secondary Mist Flame, too.

Apparently Xanxus's father is called Bartolomeo Russo and was born in nineteen-thirty-eight. His father's parents are Giuseppe Russo, born nineteen-twelve and died nineteen-eighty-six, and Silvia Lanza, born nineteen-fourteen. Giuseppe's parents are listed as Chiara Something, eighteen-eighty-something to something-sixty-one and Something Andreyevich, born eighteen-something-five and died in nineteen-sixty-something. Silvia Lanza's parents are equally spotty, but there's enough there for Xanna to match dates and names in her head with a couple mentioned in Signora Vongola's encyclopaedic paternity testing folder, which is now hiding amongst hers and Xanxus's old schoolwork. Those are both Vongola lines, with Silvia's mother being descended from one of Third's sisters and her father from one of First and Second's younger siblings. On top of being Lanza and therefore descended from one of Ricardo Vongola's older half-siblings, since 'Lanza' was Second's mother's first husband's name.

Bloody Vongola intermarriages making her inner geneticist clutch at their pearls and wail about inbreeding. Flames must have a mitigating effect there somehow or else there'd be far more birth defects.

Considering that Bartolomeo Russo was about forty when Xanxus was conceived, her Sky probably has older half-siblings; maybe younger ones too. That would be interesting. For Xanxus's father to explain to his wife.

"I'm not going looking for your father until September," she tells him flatly. "None of the public offices will be open."

"Break in."

"No. He's not Vongola-affiliated –in fact he's clearly called 'Russo' because his grandfather _was_ Russian– and his paternal grandmother could be anybody. You've got another still-living badass mafia grandma on your father's side giving you two more claims to the Vongola name, that's more than enough to add to the Iron Fort's archives and consolidate your position. You very clearly have the blood and Don Vongola already knows you have the popular vote; further stalling in acknowledging you as Heir must therefore be for personal reasons rather than professional ones. He knows you have the education, the inclination and the strength to be Tenth."

"So I push him into a corner and he either recognises me or admits he doesn't want me to be Tenth," Xanxus finishes quietly, "for whatever bullshit reason."

"He's old and soft and you're militant," Xanna says bluntly. That's what she thinks the problem is anyway.

Her Sky fiddles with her hair. "Enrico can't see anybody past his own ego and Federico has no idea what life is like for anybody lower-ranking than an underboss." Harsh but very true; Federico does care and he tries, but he's completely out of touch and not even aware of it despite Xanxus's best efforts.

"And Massimo doesn't want to be Don," Xanna finishes. Partly because the Don is expected to marry and Massimo is happily monogamous with his should-be-husband, but mostly because Massimo's middle child syndrome has led him to look sideways at everything even slightly Vongola-related; he'd make a good External Advisor but Sawada is younger than him and therefore unlikely to retire in his favour.

"I'll go up later," Xanxus tells her, still playing with her hair and considerately keeping it off the back of her neck. "Want a cold flannel?"

"Please."

* * *

Xanxus's 'later' turns out to require all of the Officers to accompany him to the Iron Fort at ten o'clock at night, which is at least late enough to be comfortably cool despite wearing the full Varia uniform. He's even called ahead, although going by Don Vongola's expression Xanxus was not expected to show up with a full compliment. Considering that Belphegor is eight, Ottabio is in his mid twenties and Mammon is so swathed in illusions as to be unrecognisable, they make a confusing ensemble arrayed behind their Sky.

"My son, I thought you asked for a private meeting," Don Vongola says after a short pause.

"If your Guardians can hear it so can mine," Xanna's Sky says flatly, arms folded. Not confrontational, not yet, but calling the older man out on a double-standard he has not previously challenged. To Don Vongola's right Nougat twitches –that codename is ridiculous but she can't call the man Coyote– but does not speak. The Storm looks like he's just realised Xanxus knows exactly what he's doing and that thought doesn't sit right. Hah. That name though; is he a Superbi? She's never thought about there being a connection before now. Something to ask 'Tera…

Don Vongola smiles conciliatorily, as though he's never noticed the disadvantage he puts most of his guests and relatives at as a matter of course. "One each, and the rest adjourn to the antechamber?"

"Sprite, stay," Xanxus responds –in Japanese– after a considering pause that is probably just for show. "Shark, keep everyone on line for me."

"I hear you Boss," the Rain Officer responds, opening the door behind him but not moving to leave just yet. Don Vongola nods at Visconti and Nougat leaves his side and heads for the open door, the rest of the Ninth Generation falling in around him.

Squalo sends Lussuria ahead with a nod, the other Officers following and the Rain taking up the rear, catching Xanxus's eye as he closes the door behind them.

Xanna is more interested in how Don Vongola has chosen which Guardian to keep. Clearly she is not considered to be her Sky's Right Hand –Squalo has been slotted into that spot as Nougat's counterpart– but seriously, how is it that she has been shoved into the 'semi-independent observer' box? She's never been independent. She's never even pretended to be independent. She's just very insistent on truthfulness, from herself and from everyone around her. Xanxus included. Pantera likes to make a game of it, teasing her with insinuation and omission and implication to see how much she can deduce and pick apart. She's getting a lot better with the practice and it's fun to catch him out, especially since he pays his forfeits in kisses.

Don Vongola promptly walks over to the medium-sized oval table this meeting room contains and sits down in the middle of one of the long sides. Xanxus settles opposite, Xanna standing behind his left shoulder rather than one of the other seats. Across the table Visconti mirrors her position.

"So, my son, what is it you wish to discuss?" Don Vongola asks gently.

"I know you've seen the paperwork on my mother's heritage that I submitted to the Archives," Xanna's Sky says bluntly, "so you know my bloodline's as good as my brothers, even though I'm a bastard." Xanxus still hasn't told Don Vongola that he knows he's not the man's biological son? That's odd. Unexpected. Then again, with the revelation of his mother's heritage it's not like he needs to air that grievance just yet; it's personal not political.

"I am very sorry about your mother, my son," Don Vongola says quietly. "I did not consider the possibility of her being Vongola in her own right. It was a terrible oversight."

"You didn't think anybody descended from First or Second could ever end up like she did," Xanxus deduces with merciless accuracy. "But illness doesn't discriminate." Xanxus is mostly sure now that his mother had paraphrenia rather than outright schizophrenia, based on what he remembers of her behaviour and the books he has read. She was healthy, she was stable, she was consistent… except for her delusion of Xanxus being Don Vongola's son following his Activation of his Flames and the associated paranoid and grandiose behaviour that delusion inspired. Her other issues were probably connected to her intermittent drug usage, which likely became considerably less intermittent when she no longer had to focus on looking after Xanxus.

"I apologise."

Xanxus nods, accepting the admission of failure. "That's not why I'm here though. I have the blood, I have the training and the family supports me, so why haven't you named me your Heir yet?"

"My son…" Don Vongola hesitates, eyes darting sideways to Xanna. Ah yes, he can't lie. Or deflect. Poor old man, reduced to honesty in such a difficult time.

"What is it you are looking for that I lack?" Her Sky demands.

The old man sighs, looking terribly tired. "My son, I recognise that the Family would flourish in your care. But at what cost? The Underworld is a global phenomenon now; most of my duties as Don involve liaising with other Families and organisations abroad. How many unnecessary deaths would your militancy cause? How many more wars would the Family become embroiled in? The Vongola is already spoken of in hushed whispers as an empire built on corpses, drowning in blood and sin. I would not see that sin compounded."

Xanxus trembles. In rage. Xanna slides slightly further to her left and takes a small step forward, casually placing her hand on the arm of the chair behind her Sky's elbow. Not a restraint; a reminder that she is here and on his side.

"So," Xanxus spits through gritted teeth, "you deny me the Family. Because. I actually care. For the Family?" He rises abruptly to his feet, the chair falling to the floor. "Go fuck yourself." He turns and strides to the door, throwing it open and stalking out, Xanna having to scurry to keep up with his longer legs.

The other Officers all turn quickly and fall in behind, hurrying to keep up with their incandescently furious Sky if not quite daring to wander as close as Xanna.

"Sprite," Xanxus demands tightly once they're all sitting in the car and Lussuria is driving them back to the Varia.

"Believing whole-heartedly in something does not make it true," Xanna tells her Sky. "Fear is a pathetic excuse for anything and lack of faith in the integrity of people you know well is a very small step up from unjustified paranoia." None of which will make much sense to the other Officers, but Xanxus will understand exactly what she means.

"What the fuck was that about?" Squalo demands a few minutes later, since Xanxus has failed to say anything in response to her comments.

"Don Vongola doesn't think Xanxus is diplomatic enough to be Heir," Xanna says instantly, before Xanxus can do more than bristle.

"Hey, what?" the fourteen-year-old gapes. "The hell? You, you both took the diplomatic track! Boss graduated top of the class! Before turning fifteen! What the hell kind of shit reasoning is Ninth using?!"

Their Sky very deliberately closes his eyes and leans back into the upholstery. "Shut up, trash," he demands, voice harsh.

Squalo glares and gestures rudely but shuts up. The rest of the journey is intensely, stiflingly silent, if only because Belphegor had mercifully fallen asleep against Xanna's shoulder right before Squalo started talking.

* * *

August passes quietly. Xanna doesn't trust it; this is the calm before the storm. It makes sleep difficult. Admittedly that may be partly because Xanxus is personally leading almost every single one of the various missions dribbling in, so he's rarely there beside her when she's trying to rest, but Xanna trusts her instincts. Don Vongola insulted everything her Sky is and Xanxus is not going to let that lie. He is going to prove the man wrong, all that remains unclear is how.

Xanna hopes that her Sky remembers that the essence of diplomacy is 'war by any other means', the emphasis being on the word 'any'. If her memories of that long-ago story are relevant then in a world without her, her Sky might have forgotten that –or have never learned– when confronting Don Vongola over his various failures. Xanxus is still Xanxus, but education and training do make a difference and so does having emotional support to fall back on; he'll make it through this. She takes advantage of the lack of work to spend more time with her boyfriend, although with the weather being so cripplingly hot during the day they mostly just find somewhere shady with decent breeze to lounge in while wearing next-to-nothing and nap. Evenings are more… lively.

It's only a few days before the beginning of September when Xanxus summons all the Officers to the official Varia meeting room and announces his plan.

Xanna does not really hear any of the details; when her Sky says 'attack the Iron Fort' she suddenly feels like she is standing behind a pane of glass and watching things unfold from a distance that is both small and impossible to bridge. Squalo is delighted and raring to go; Lussuria is empathising so fiercely with Xanxus that he is disregarding the implications and consequences; Belphegor is gleefully anticipating the bloodshed; Mammon is quiet but approving, not even mentioning how expensive this is going to be; Ottabio…

Xanna does not like the look on Ottabio's face. Her Sky is missing it, too caught up in his righteous anger, but Xanna sees it. That is the look of somebody who has every intention of using your secrets to sell you down the river.

That won't do.

Catching Xanxus in private and poking holes in his grand scheme can happen later.

* * *

Xanna only knows the name of the Cloud in front of her because Maínomai, the tall Mist she shared her photos of Xanxus with back in the spring, decided that meant they were friends and talks about his Squad Leader a lot while spending time with her. Except that Maínomai usually refers to the man as his partner, not his Squad Leader, because they are a two-man Squad. Maínomai is brilliant and powerful but scattered; Pýř provides grounding and reminds the other man of the mission objectives. It works for them and for the Varia.

She's only actually seen him twice before now and one of those times was at her birthday party; she's picked up a few things though, from those encounters and from the Varia gossip mill. This Cloud is even more attuned to Flames than her Sky is, has no patience whatsoever for people wasting his time and doesn't respect his Officer.

"Solo mission," she tells him, holding out a sealed envelope in a hand alight with Flames. The Cloud looks at her, calls up a fine purple-red sheen over his own fingers and clasps her hand in his. In that split-second of contact Xanna pushes what she has seen –Ottabio's unguarded expression– and what she suspects –treason– at him. The Flames wink out; the Squad Leader nods at her, pocketing the envelope.

"Officer."

And that's that.

* * *

Xanna puts off the conversation with her Sky for four days and would have gone on putting if off had Pýř not let himself into the training room where she was practicing sword forms and shoved a padded envelope at her, the accompanying Flame-impression conveying that Ottabio's corpse is cooling quietly in his locked office. And that Pýř hates her for playing him like this; he did not want to be Cloud Officer, bitch.

The envelope contains a cassette tape, two-dozen photographs and transcripts of three conversations that damn Ottabio in three separate ways. The one that matters most to Xanna is the meeting with Visconti; the Cloud Officer betrayed his Boss's confidence to Don Vongola.

The other two transcripts prove he was sharing confidential information with his family and using his position in the Varia for personal gain and to the detriment of the Vongola Alliance, which are excuses enough for his death that, so long as Xanxus abandons his plans for war, Ottabio's selling him out can be passed off as lying in an attempt to cover up his multitude of other crimes.

Xanna closes the envelope, walks up to the suite she shares with her Sky –which is empty– leaves the envelope in the middle of the desk right in front of Boss's chair then walks back down to the training rooms again to confront the teenager she will do almost anything for.

She's never defied him before, but then again he's never been so dead-set on pursuing something so blatantly damaging to himself either. She loves him too much to let him hurt himself like this.

Xanna finds her Sky in one of the reinforced training rooms usually used by the Storms, practicing with his guns in front of a small audience. "Out," she tells the loiterers, nodding at the door. There is a round of disappointed moans and grumbles, but none of them protest. The last one even flicks the catch before closing the door behind him to guarantee they won't be disturbed.

"What's up, pixie?" her Sky asks playfully, twirling one of his guns after reloading it. Xanna walks around the room so she's facing him with the door on her right.

"Xanna, talk to me." He's frowning sharply now, guns holstered and Flames poised for whatever he is reading off her. She's not sure what he can see right now but she's not trying to hide anything.

"Why are you so dead-set on proving Don Vongola right?" she asks quietly.

"Explain yourself." He is angry with her now but that is not important.

"A direct confrontation in the field is war, Xanxus," she tells him flatly. "You are going to war against the Vongola. You are betraying everybody who is putting their faith in you and vouching for you as Tenth."

"I am not!" His Flames roar into life, pressing against hers and tearing hungrily at the edges of her Will. She's never done this before, never set her Will against his; her Will has always been so completely in tune with his that he couldn't actually burn her, not even when he brought Wrath to bear. Not now though; now she is fully exposed, completely vulnerable.

It doesn't matter; she will not succumb. Her Will is for him and he cannot vanquish it.

"You are!" She shouts at him. "You are taking a personal slight and using it to excuse the deaths of innocents! How many of the foot-soldiers will die if you attack the Iron Fort, Xanxus? How many of them do you know by name? How many of them support you whole-heartedly in your ambitions? You would kill them for doing their jobs, for being there!" –a concentrated Wrath shot hits a Flame-blade hastily conjured and discarded in her defence, consuming it utterly– "You would give Don Vongola leverage against all the Dons and underbosses who endorse you! That is not diplomacy! That is stupidity!"

The second Wrath shot forces her to dodge as her Sky screams abuse at her, all the anger that has been roiling under the surface now fully apparent. "You are mine! How dare you!"

"I dare because I am yours!" she screams back, dodging another barrage and bludgeoning him across the face with the blunt edge of another blade. "I dare because as soon as you get over yourself you're going to fucking hate yourself! So what if Don Vongola can't see what's right in front of him? Grow up! Stop dicking about! Be diplomatic! War by any other means, idiot!"

The next shot her Sky fires goes backwards, launching him at her and it's all too fast; next thing she knows her jaw is aching –definitely cracked and possibly a compound fracture– and she's halfway across the training room, ironically grateful for all those beatings back when she was just getting started on Flames because if there's one thing she knows how to do, it's take a hit and get up again. Her bones won't thank her for it afterwards but she can do it.

"He is betraying the Vongola!" her Sky roars at her, a thin line of purple bruising running right up his face from where her first blow hit home. "He is supposed to be putting the family first! The fuck else do I do?!" He reloads the guns and fires another barrage which eats through her blade-shields and throws her into another wall from sheer transferred force.

"Assassinate him, you idiot!" Xanna screams back, knowing already that she's going to be spending at least a week immobilised in Medical after this, despite using her Flames to hold her bones together. "Or assassinate the External Advisor, a tragic accident, so sad, and get his successor to nominate you! Tell people why Don Vongola isn't making you Heir! It's not like he swore you to secrecy! Undermine him at every turn and get everybody else to fight him for you! Be fucking diplomatic, dickhead!"

The Sky roars like a wounded bull and charges her; Xanna has no time or breath for words anymore and focuses on not letting him kill her, because that is not in his best interests either.

She ends up flat on her back on the heavily-burnt mats, the ceiling above her head pockmarked and scarred by their clash, and her Sky pressing the muzzle of one of his guns to her forehead. "Why?" Xanxus demands hoarsely.

Why is she opposing him. Why is she pushing this. Why is she dragging him out of his wounded fury and forcing him to think when everything already hurts so much.

"I love you too much to let you do this to yourself." Her Sky flicks the safety back and forth for several long seconds, then makes a disgusted sound in his throat and holsters the weapon.

"I hate you," he says flatly, eyes hard. It's the truth, but Xanna doesn't let it wound her; he hates her because he loves her and her words matter to him. She has caused him pain by telling him a truth he doesn't want to hear and she knew that going in. Better hate than indifference; if he didn't care at all, that would hurt.

The words don't hurt but everything else does; her exposed skin is an agonising symphony of first degree burns –so damn lucky to avoid worse there– Flame micro-netting is holding her fractured skeleton together and her personal non-Newtonian interstitial fluid cushioning trick is the only reason her blood is still mostly in her veins and arteries and none of her internal organs have ruptured.

Her Sky stomps angrily out of her line of sight and the door slams open; his footsteps fade into the distance. Xanna feels her Will gutter; he heard her. He listened. He is going to think about the truths she has given him.

It's enough.

* * *

"Officer?"

Xanna blinks at the assassin kneeling over her, fingers pressed gently against her neck. Where did he–?

"Officer, stay with me!" How can she go anywhere? She can't even move. It all hurts too much.

"Fuck, what's taking so long?" The Cloud –this is Hawkeye, the purple spandex is a dead giveaway– looks up, then back again. "Sprite, focus! Don't you dare, your boyfriend will skin me!"

The idea of Pantera skinning anybody makes Xanna want to laugh, which doesn't do her poor ribcage any good. "Owwww," she moans, a little surprised by how feeble her voice is.

"Pain is good, pain means you're alive and you're going to stay alive!" Hawkeye says firmly, bending close to look her in the eyes. "You've spoiled us for any other Lightning Officer!"

Xanna whines; it's not fair, he needs to stop making her laugh…

"Sprite, keep it together!"

She's tired, she doesn't want to…

"Xanna!"

* * *

Reality has gone wrong. Of this she is certain. Whether the errors are inside her head or outside of it is of no particular importance; the fact remains that everything is wrong and there is no way of fixing it. No matter; she will make do. There are… more important…

… things.

She is in pain. If she is twenty-nine and drinking tea then the pain is out of place, but she is also ten years younger and setting her Will against the Sky she has devoted herself to for over half a decade and attended school alongside. That… fits.

The pain is everywhere, not sharp but persistent and clinging. Muted through a cottony fog that has a distant part of her brain mumbling something snarky about really strong painkillers. Everything is incoherent and muffled and scattered and some bits are idling in aimless circles. Nothing's clear, she can't quite place where she is or how she got here and even the voices she can vaguely hear aren't making words in any language she understands. There are regular sounds but they don't make much sense either, a toneless dialect she's never learnt, but why would she need a new language to stay in bed?

Beds are for resting, even though she's too hot and too heavy and something important is missing. The cottony blanket is smothering her objections though and she can't think of a reason to defy it.

She drifts.


	3. Chapter 3

"… up?" It's child's whine but the voice is familiar.

"When she's ready, Bel-honey." That's Lussuria speaking. "Sprite's healing still and that takes a lot of energy!"

Xanna breathes in, not opening her eyes. She aches, but it's a lingering all-over ache rather than the sharp stabbing pain that says she's pushed her body past breaking point and now has to pick up the pieces. She's not going to try moving though; just because nothing hurts much right now does not mean she doesn't have broken bones. It just means they are currently in the right places and properly supported. There's also a persistent sense of fatigue, never mind the various needles she can feel sticking into her arms and the mask over her nose and mouth. This is very definitely the worst she has ever been injured.

Yuck, the almost-odourless tang of oxygen is a terrible smell to wake up to.

The bed rattles, the not-quite impact perceptible but not jarring; probably because she is swathed in Rain Flames from scalp to ankle. "I know you're awake, fairy!"

"Bel! Get off there! She's wearing that Rain-blanket for a reason!"

Oh, so that's what it is. Xanna cautiously cracks an eye; the Storm Officer is taking up most of her field of vision, clinging to the railings fencing her in and batting at Lussuria's hands as the Sun Officer tries to move him.

"See, she's awake!" Bel grins, then pouts at her. "Why did you make Boss change his mind? I wanted to kill people!"

"Nobody," Xanna croaks, swallowing in an attempt to wet her throat.

"Here, darling," Luss coos, holding a glass by her chin and shifting the oxygen mask just enough to poke the straw into her mouth. Xanna sips the tepid water, allows the mask to be readjusted then tries again.

"Nobody makes Boss do anything."

Bel huffs, probably giving her a Look from under his bangs. "He beat you to a pulp, spent four days sulking in his workshop and getting drunk in the office then called everything off. I know you did it. Did you kill Ottabio too?"

"Bel, you were there for the autopsy results; Ottabio had his brain liquefied by Storm Flames," Lussuria scolds, then glances down at her. "Except you don't seem so terribly surprised that he's dead, darling, despite his body only being found while you were in surgery."

Xanna smiles; it's only slightly painful. "Traitor."

"Ah! You did do it! I knew it!" Bel crows, grinning toothily. "I win the pool!"

"Commissioned it," Xanna corrects; Xanxus will have read the report by now so the information is not exactly confidential. "At the assassin's discretion." As an Officer she cannot kill another Officer or order them killed, so she left it to Pýř to decide an appropriate response. Of course she played him –and he knows she played him– because Pýř is fiercely loyal and could not stand by and watch his Boss be betrayed, but it was still his choice.

"Which assassin?" Lussuria asks, "Was it a Cloud? Boss is leaving the position empty for now."

"Was a Cloud," Xanna agrees, "Boss knows who. He's probably sulking." The 'he' being Pýř, not Xanxus.

"You tricked him!" Bel exclaims delightedly, bouncing in place and rattling everything again. "You found Boss a proper Officer to replace the rat and you tricked him into volunteering!"

Lussuria lunges and snatches the Storm off the bed. "None of that, sugar's convalescing!" he scolds, settling the eight-year-old on a chair about a foot back before leaning over her himself and prodding at her face with deft fingertips. Xanna feels the delicate wisps of her fellow Officer's Flames coiling under her skin and doesn't fight them.

"Damage?" She asks.

Lussuria glares at her. "Honey, you know exactly what Boss did to you; you were still holding your own bones together when you reached me," he says sharply. "Next time you think Boss needs the teenage drama kicking out of him you tell me and I'll do it; got that sweet thing? I'm better in a fight than you are and he'll mope less afterwards."

"Mope?" Seriously? She'd known he would pulverise her for booting him out of his self-righteous rut. She'd been expecting it.

"He's been completely boring since calling everything off," Bel chimes in, leaning forwards and draping himself through the bars to make sure she can see him. "He spends half the day in here staring at you and the other half napping in his office. He spends half the night in here too and the other half in his workshop. His Flames are all heavy and gloomy, it's so annoying; make it stop!"

"Go get him for me?" Xanna asks. The sooner she and Xanxus apologise for their respective parts in this mess the sooner they can move on.

Bel grins. "The prince will tell Boss that his fairy is awake and that the prince won the pool," the eight-year-old says grandly before jumping out of the chair and darting out of her field of vision.

"How long?" Xanna asks.

The Sun Officer sighs, straightening her sheets. "It's been nine days since your fight," he shares quietly. "Your boyfriend's been over and blacked Boss's eye, Squ-chan's been doing his homework in here and grumbling about how his best friend followed him into sports track, Bel's visited intermittently to complain at you about delegating his education to Tyrant –smart move by the way– all your friends have at least called and you've had lots of other visitors. I think your entire Division's been in, although none of them quite seem to know what to do once they get here."

"They're not used to feelings," Xanna agrees, surprised and touched that so many people have missed her.

"Quite a few of the Rains and Mists have been by too, especially the newer ones," Lussuria continues, "and Maínomai snuck in the first night after surgery finished and babbled at you for three hours," the Sun side-eyes her behind his tinted spectacles, "about a lot of things that made no sense at the time but do now; was it Pýř?"

Xanna blinks innocently.

The other Officer smiles. "Good choice."

There is a sound of running feet and doors being slammed; Xanna tilts her head in time to see her Sky careen through the door and skid to a halt at her bedside. His left eye is, as promised, looking a bit swollen and yellow-green around the edges. Lussuria instantly turns around and heads out of the door, closing it behind him and leaving them alone.

"Hey," she manages.

Xanxus collapses into the chair and curls his hand over hers. "Sorry," he says contritely. "You shouldn't have needed to do that."

"I regret nothing," Xanna tells him warmly, "and I forgive you." She pauses. "Sorry for making it a fight." Her jaw aches a little, but she can just about speak despite the restraining blanket of Rain.

"I don't think I'd have listened otherwise," her Sky admits with a wry wince, "so forgiven." He fiddles with her fingers, which miraculously are not broken or even bruised. "Ottabio?"

"You read the report?" He nods. "When you made the announcement, he had this look," Xanna tries to explain, "and I just knew. So I did the only thing the rules let me do, which is commission somebody who is not an Officer to look into it."

"Who dealt with it themselves," Xanxus finishes. "He's still holding that against you."

"He'll be an amazing Officer once he settles," Xanna retorts, entirely unrepentant despite the feebleness of her voice.

"I know." Her Sky traces an absent line up her forearm over the Flame coating. "Like him."

"You have things in common," Xanna articulates carefully, trying to find words for the feeling in her Flames and the oddly abstract truths that the two men share. "Hard things that are made harder by the truths you don't want to face and the lies you tell yourselves. Tiny accidental lies," she adds scrupulously, "but they cling to the edges of the truth like blunt serrations and make everything hurt more."

"Like?" He's not angry with her, barely even offended. More tired than anything else.

"Don Vongola is a human being and therefore fallible and imperfect," Xanna says bluntly. "This is the truth. But you put him up on a pedestal because you were a child and thought he was your father, so when he finally proved his fallible humanity to you in a way you could not brush off or ignore you took it very badly." She takes a breath. "That's… fairly normal." Another breath; this conversation is reminding her of the cherished, faded memories of her own fallible and imperfect father and it hurts. So do her ribs and jaw; this much talking is a bit much for them. "You blamed yourself a bit. That's a lie though; his choices are entirely his own. But don't let the failure take away the good things. Those good things are still valid. People fail all the time but still manage to do good things, sometimes entirely by accident. Be less harsh on yourself for not noticing." She doesn't tell him to be less harsh on Don Vongola; that's for him to decide.

"This is a growing up thing." Not a question but Xanna answers anyway.

"Yes."

"Okay." A pause. "It will take time."

"That's fine too."

Another pause, long but not uncomfortable. "Sawada's in hospital; plane crashed in the Alps, two days' delay before rescue. Comatose, spinal injuries, brain damage; not expected to recover."

Xanna is positive that Sawada's accident is nothing of the sort; she suggested this as a course of action during the fight. "The Don 'pointed a replacement yet?"

"Not officially; thinks Sawada might improve once we get him into Vongola Medical." Xanxus clearly considers this wishful thinking, which since it was a Varia assassination –or at least an accident orchestrated by the Varia– is entirely justified. "Massimo's standing in."

"Howzat goin' for 'im?"

"Called me eight times in three days to complain about the stupid."

Xanna huffs a bit feebly; she's tiring already. "Well at least he's gettin' thin's done then." It will probably take a few more weeks, a month on the outside, for it to become clear to Don Vongola that Sawada Iemitsu will not be waking up –or at least not waking up able to go back to work– and then Massimo will be confirmed as External Advisor. Massimo can then nominate Xanxus as Heir; Xanna is sure that by then Massimo will be really keen to have anybody other than his father as Don Vongola, since his father is vanishingly unlikely to take his concerns seriously.

"Told Massimo," Xanxus says quietly, eyes dropping to her hand in his.

"Bout your parentage?" she guesses.

He nods. "Knew I wasn't his father's. Doesn't care. Likes me for me. Is pleased I can inherit anyway; says I actually pay attention to reality." There's a quiet delight to her Sky as he tells her this and Xanna is incredibly happy for him.

The door opens again. "Honey you need to go back under," Lussuria says firmly, "so I need you to do a few tests for me so we can make sure we haven't missed anything. Also, no more talking; your jaw's still tender and you don't want to go back into surgery, do you?"

Xanna makes a plaintive noise in her throat but acquiesces; she's in terrible shape and she knows it. The Flames wrapped around her body extending almost to her knees and down her arms to the wrist are a bit of a giveaway there, never mind the way she can't actually turn her head or open her mouth more than a centimetre. Makes talking difficult from the get-go.

"Good girl. Now move your middle finger on your left hand for me, please. Does that hurt? Double-blink for yes, single for no."

Xanna blinks once.

"Good, now your thumb. Hurt? No? Good, other hand please, first finger. Does that–? Good. Thumb? Lovely, honey." The Sun Officer bustles around the bed and takes the sheet off her feet. "Now I want you to wiggle your toes for me."

Xanna can't actually see her feet, but she tries and feels the sensation of the sheets change.

"Excellent!" Lussuria crows, patting her feet before pulling the sheet over them again, "nerves are clearly working fine." He eyeballs her sternly down the length of the bed. "Sugar-lump, your spine is a mess. You kept it together very nicely but it still took forty-eight hours of Mist-surgery to catch all the loose bits and you will need daily checks for a while longer yet to make sure no spurs are growing in the wrong places. You'll be allowed to wake up again in another five days, as by then your bones will have all the collagen bridges in place, but strict bed rest for another fortnight and only moving your arms and moving the bed rather than sitting up yourself. Understood?"

Xanna blinks twice. She understands; this is going to be exceptionally tedious.

Xanxus has let go of her hand and ducked his head so his hair hangs over his eyes, studiously avoiding eye-contact. Clearly he is going to go on feeling guilty about this until she's up and about again.

Still, she's not dead; everything else will be okay.

* * *

Everything is not okay when she is finally allowed to wake up properly; her boyfriend is feuding with her Sky. It is thus far a very polite and one-sided feud, but that's not exactly better, not really. In some ways it's worse. The black eye may be the most visible of the wounds inflicted, but the rest are probably verbal and those are often more damaging. She can feel in her Sky's Flames how many of those have hit home; he isn't even fighting back.

It's incredibly upsetting. They both notice instantly.

"Got paperwork," Xanxus says, striding out of the room and closing the door behind him; how subtle of him.

"Xanna?" Pantera asks, sitting by her bed and reaching out to touch her hand, resentment and acidic hatred fading in favour of concern and care.

She only flinches a little, but her boyfriend is very observant and the concern heightens.

"Talk to me, please."

Xanna takes a deep, careful breath. She's in a full-body brace now rather than a Rain-Flame blanket, but there's not a significant increase in movement. At least she's allowed to breathe real air now, for all that the air in Medical is cold and smells bad. "I knew exactly what would happen when I confronted Xanxus," she says, soft and deliberate. "I was expecting this."

This time it's Pantera flinching. She watches him breathe through the pain she's just inflicted on him and sees him put all the pieces together in the aftermath. "Ruthless, aren't you," he murmurs, eyes softening. He gets it. She loves him so much for getting it and not being angry with her like he's got every right to be.

"I'm his Lightning, how can I not be?"

The Superbi Heir chuckles harshly. "And you're older than him too; I'm sorry sweetheart, I shouldn't belittle your agency like that."

"Will you bury the hatchet then?" Xanna asks hopefully.

Pantera smiles, the expression a little sad. "For you, yes. I only found out three days after; you were late for our date and I called Squalo."

Xanna cringes; oh that must have been awful for him, she should have cancelled! "Sorry."

"I was… not impressed to find out your Sky had hospitalised you and was sulking about it," Pantera says with deceptive mildness, "and drunk, no less."

"This was the first time I've ever set my Will against his," Xanna says quietly. "He probably felt like I'd betrayed him too."

Pantera blinks. "What, really? You've never fought him over anything?"

"Usually my Will is so in tune with his that not even his Wrath burns me," Xanna admits sheepishly.

"You and him…" Pantera trails off, shaking his head. "Xanna, congratulations on raising a hellion and successfully setting him loose without any major loss of life; he'll make a fine Don Vongola."

"I am not his mother!" Her voice is terribly feeble still and it's annoying.

"No, you're his big sister, or you were at any rate; he certainly idolised you like an older sibling," Pantera teases, poking her in the stomach through the sheet. "He's going to take you a whole lot more seriously now you've slapped him across the face with your strength of Will though, so watch out for that." He grins. "I expect there'll be more gauze and sparkles to compensate."

"Asshole," Xanna grumbles, unable to hide her smile; Pantera understands about doing hard things that you know are going to hurt, because they're important things.

"Was it worth it?" He asks her seriously.

"It worked," she concedes, "and I'm probably not going to have to do it again." Xanxus is a very quick study and Lussuria won't let her anyway. Besides, she is not going to be allowed out of this bed for another fortnight, so if something came up tomorrow she'd have to delegate regardless.

"No guarantees?"

"Nothing in life is certain except death and taxation."

"True enough," her boyfriend sighs. "Now do I get kisses from my cunning and beautiful girlfriend to soothe my wounded heart?"

Xanna giggles, wiggling her fingers. "Lean over me and I'll do my best." She doesn't feel beautiful with all the tubes in her arms and not having washed in a fortnight –Mist-tricking the sweat and dirt off doesn't really feel clean– but it's sweet of him to say that.

* * *

September turns out to be very busy for the Varia, a rush of requests and missions that only fades as October comes to a close. She's been out of it for the first fortnight of that, so maybe it's not so surprising that, as soon as Lussuria clears her for staying awake and sitting up –so long as the bed is supporting her spine still– a bunch of her Division members bring a big stack of mission reports to her bedside then hang around so she can ask them questions. Not that she needs to ask them questions, strictly speaking –she's got the hang of Varia slang now and has so far coaxed a further five languages out of various different Mists, the implantation made easier by her Active Mist-secondary– but her brainwashed and traumatised following really like that she asks them about their missions and the things that didn't make it into the reports. So she asks, listens, gasps or giggles in the right places and occasionally requests clarification, checking that everybody got back in one piece.

'Nobody lost a hand' is turning into another Varia in-joke, code for an easily avoided injury and made doubly hilarious by being a Star Wars reference; she's going to share it with 'Tera next time he visits. She wonders if any of Squalo's Rains have repeated it to his face yet, because if so he's going to show up at her bedside and complain at the top of his voice. Nobody considered his self-mutilation an issue until she made a fuss, so this is clearly her fault not his; teenage logic at its finest.

Xanna regrets nothing there. She does regret not doing a better job of dodging her Sky after poking him with a stick; not being allowed to so much as get out of bed is incredibly tedious, even with people visiting to talk, bring her things to read and music to listen to.

She is allowed to eat now, but it's all liquids and still supplemented by the drips. She's lost a lot of weight and for all that Lussuria is speeding up the healing process as much as he can, her body has limits and he refuses to push them. Xanna isn't arguing with the Sun there but Squalo and Bel are both grumpy about her continued immobilisation and have fought with him on the subject several times. Those were educational to watch; being better at biology than her Sky doesn't mean she's anywhere near the Sun Officer's level in the medical sciences. More interestingly, she's learned that for all of Lussuria's skill in hand-to-hand and the joy he finds in pummelling people, his true specialty as an assassin lies in inflicting illness. To the point that if the Varia ever decided to have a Squad named for the four horsemen of the apocalypse, Lussuria would be a shoo-in for Pestilence.

She is sleeping very poorly, but at least she doesn't really need much right now and she is getting plenty of rest regardless.

* * *

"You're healing well, sugar-lump," Lussuria says upon checking her over at lunchtime on the last day of her tedious fortnight –she is finally allowed to sit up on her own and eat more than soup and at least Varia Medical uses Mist-tricks rather than catheters– "and you've put a little weight back on, but I'd like to keep you on bed-rest two weeks longer. You can use the toilet by yourself now, but no stretching or exercise of any kind until I authorise it, got that sugar?"

"Can be on bed-rest upstairs," her Sky points out, leaning against the doorframe and watching her intently. So much for working in his office; he visits every single day, often bringing his own paperwork so he can stay for hours at a time, and stops by regularly at night too, walking past the door and reaching through it with his Flames. "Move to the couch during the day, feel less isolated."

Lussuria props his hands on his hips and tilts his head at his boyfriend. "Oh?"

Xanxus does not say anything more, stubbornly sticking to his guns.

"Does this have anything to do with your manifest inability to sleep more than ninety minutes at a time while on missions?" the Sun Officer inquires archly, "or how you've been following those same mission lack-of-sleep patterns since you landed sugar here in my care?"

What, it isn't just her? Admittedly she sleeps a little better than that by herself, but only because she makes an effort to maintain her normal sleep patterns even in his absence and the bed holds traces of both his scent and his Flames. She's not been sleeping well in Medical but she has at least been resting. "We've not slept apart much in the six years since meeting," Xanna admits. "There was a week three years back when Signora Vongola enforced it as a punishment –we both slept horrendously badly– but we've done a lot more sleeping apart since joining the Varia. Probably four or five times as much as in the entire preceding five years."

"Feels unsafe," Xanxus admits reluctantly, eyes on his boots.

"Unsafe for you or unsafe for her?" the Sun Officer asks perceptively.

Oh. Well, that had been why they started in the first place…

"Unsafe for me," Xanna says quietly. "I… my first day in the Iron Fort Don Vongola sent Ganauche to fetch me from the suite. I was in the shower. He broke the lock. I slept terribly thereafter until Xanxus started joining me in my bed, then later he decided I should join him in his instead."

"Oh honey," Lussuria coos, smoothing down her hair, "and you were only thirteen?"

"I think Xanxus was concerned about somebody taking me away from him," Xanna says, eyes dropping to her hands twisting in her lap, "but I was more worried about getting murdered in my sleep."

The bed creaks as Xanxus eases himself down right next to her and carefully shifts her onto his lap, arms wrapping around her comfortingly. "Didn't happen," he says firmly. "Won't happen."

"Yes, well I know that in my head," Xanna agrees tiredly, leaning her forehead against his shoulder, "but in my heart there is a tiny terrified teenager who knows she is only going to wake up in the morning because a mafia boss doesn't want his youngest son to hate him." She breathes. "It's much easier to believe I'm safe when Xanxus is holding onto me." Being out of the Iron Fort helps as well.

The arms around her tighten and Xanxus's breath is hot and unsteady against her ear.

"Honey, you lived with that for five years?" Lussuria sounds appalled.

"I could see it," Xanna admits; it's a tremendous relief to get it out in the open at long last. "He doesn't want me to be Xanxus's Guardian and even now thinks Boss could 'get over it' and replace me, like he's replaced half of his before."

"Fuck that and fuck him," Xanxus growls, squeezing hard enough that he's probably going to bruise his arms on her back-brace, "none of my Guardians are replaceable." He stiffens. "This is why he never let me call you my Guardian until you went Active, isn't it?"

"Think so," Xanna agrees.

"Manipulative piece of shit," her Sky spits; "you were _always_ my Guardian. Right from when you put your hands in mine. S'why I never burned you before last month; we're bound that deep."

"Don Vongola lies to himself as well as to everybody else," Xanna says tiredly, "and can we change the subject, please?"

"Assassination is diplomatic," Xanxus says instantly, the smile –well the angry smirk– audible.

"Assassination is very diplomatic, but so are smear campaigns and you should let your allies play too," Xanna replies lightly, "never mind your other Guardians; sharing is caring. I'm sure Luss here can inflict something non-lethal but lingering on Ninth so as to give us a head start on the rumour mill and enable numerous other people to comment worriedly on how old Don Vongola is getting. A younger man would have recovered by now. The workload must be getting too much for him. All those meetings he's missing, it can't be good for business. Especially with the External Advisor still out of commission and Massimo not having been properly instated as a replacement yet; is Don Vongola really taking the Family's concerns seriously there? The list goes on." Her own injuries are officially listed as a training accident, made more plausible by how utterly distraught and guilty Xanxus is, so nobody is pointing fingers or whispering suspiciously; everybody knows he did it. They just think he didn't do it on purpose.

"So considerate, darling," Lussuria murmurs breathily, stroking her cheek, "and so deliciously vicious. Boss-honey, may I _please_?"

"Go for it," Xanxus rumbles. "Get the entire Iron Fort; Coyote and Visconti are slowing down too. Pick several things and have waves; there's always something going around."

"I feel so loved," Lussuria sighs happily, pressing a noisy kiss to Xanxus's cheek. "Bed rest in your rooms is fine, honey-bun; gentle exercise is not allowed yet but I'll be checking on you daily and will tell you when I think you're up for it. You can use the bathroom and walk across the office, but no more than that; short distances only, no more than five or six metres at a time. Shoo, both of you."

"Enjoy your revenge," Xanna offers as her Sky gets to his feet, shifting her in his arms so he's holding her under her thighs like a toddler and keeping her spine upright.

"Oh I will, honey; I promise." Xanna has never seen a real person do the 'ominous anime glasses gleam' before. It is as threatening and chilling as it should be, yet fills her with the warm and happy feeling of being loved.

* * *

Of course being still on bed-rest for Xanxus's birthday means that nothing is planned for it: Xanxus is really not in the mood, the rest of the Varia is very carefully not doing anything disruptive in his office while she can't defend herself –they've even stopped the intermittent poisoning of her food, which may possibly be because she's still technically in the care of Varia Medical– and mission-wise it's still incredibly busy. In fact it's actually got busier, possibly due to Sawada being comatose and unresponsive in the Iron Fort. According to the rumour mill he's paraplegic now and despite the Vongola Medics' best efforts they can't stimulate his nerve cells to heal.

Xanna takes it with a pinch of salt –it's a rumour after all– but knowing what she does, it seems plausible. Her stay in Varia Medical has taught her a lot about how bones heal, the difficulties inherent to treating spinal injuries and how Sun Flames are not a magical cure-all no matter how rapid their effects on muscle tissue and skin.

Xanxus's birthday starts with him carrying her into the bathroom so he can wash her hair –she is allowed to take sponge baths in the tub but not stand in the shower– and then making puppy eyes at her until she crumbles and lets him dress her in a calf-length gauzy spring green tutu over her back-brace and a pair of pink leggings. It definitely looks very silly, especially since he can't do up the back all the way over the brace and has to put a t-shirt over the top so she won't accidentally flash anyone, but it's his birthday so Xanna can deal. She can also deal with him curling her hair, pinning it back from her face and then producing actual stage makeup from somewhere and painting her face and arms with vines, flowers and multicoloured butterflies; again, it's his birthday. She can even deal with the flower crown.

It's nearly two hours later before he's prepared to leave the bedroom, by which point Xanna is definitely ready for breakfast.

"Happy birthday lover!" Lussuria chirps as soon as her Sky opens the bedroom door for her. "You're looking very festive today, chickadee."

Xanna is immensely grateful that he lets her make her own way across the office to the couch; it's bad enough not being able to do much without having the things she can just-about do taken away from her. Even though she has to stop and sit on Xanxus's chair halfway. "Thank-you," she tells him, glancing down at the body art snaking up both arms and the ridiculous skirt. "I feel very festive."

Once she's settled on the couch Lussuria checks her over like he does every morning now, fingertips dancing across her exposed skin and pulling up her shirt to check that the brace is in the right place still. "You make a lovely flower fairy, poppet," the Sun Officer murmurs in her ear, "and don't look, but he's smiling. Thank-you for humouring him, sweetheart."

"It's his birthday," Xanna murmurs back, a tiny tweak of her own Flames ensuring her Sky can't eavesdrop, "and I think he's been planning this for a while." The tutu has definitely been made specifically for her and she really, seriously doubts it's the only one he's commissioned since a tutu is a skirt than can feasibly be worn over trousers without hindering her movement. That's the whole point of a tutu after all, to allow for athletic movement.

Breakfast is brought up by another member of Medical, who wiggles his eyebrows at her and asks to borrow one of her cameras to document her outfit properly. Xanna sighs but brings an automatic camera out of her private room for him to photograph her with; he finishes the film and she has to grab a new one. She may barely be able to move but she can at least fetch things she wants with her Flames; besides, Pantera will like copies of those pictures.

She's just getting started on her paperwork when Xanxus's phone rings; he answers it in his usual brisk fashion then presses the button to put the caller on speaker.

"I was confirmed for External Advisor late last night," Massimo's tinny voice says to the room at large, "Dad called me to his bedside to do it. He's got a chest infection and a nasty hacking cough but he's refusing to take more time off to rest properly. Coyote's got a vomiting bug and Visconti's got the same thing Dad has, except he's actually looking after himself and staying in bed so he'll be up and raring to go within the week."

"Congratulations," Xanxus says blandly.

"Right back at you, baby brother," Massimo says cheerily. "Happy birthday, I'm coming over with your present, warn your minions please."

"Will do," Xanxus assures him laconically.

"See you soon then!" There is a click as the older man hangs up; Xanxus clicks the speaker off and hangs up too.

"What do you think he's bought you?" Xanna asks. Her Sky shrugs.

"Motorbike maybe?" Massimo has always had a habit of useful but extravagant gifts; he actually bought a fully armoured car for Xanna on her eighteenth birthday, just so she could drive herself and Xanxus places without needing to ask permission. At sixteen Xanxus is now old enough to legally own a proper motorbike and Massimo knows her Sky likes them, so it's plausible.

Except that when he shows up, Massimo hands over a book-sized box wrapped in glittery paper with a ribbon around it. A box with the Vongola half-rings in.

Xanxus stares at them, then at Massimo, then back at the rings. "Seriously?" he croaks. Clearly he's not got around to discussing this with his brother yet then…

"Dad is too old now and at this rate he's going to kill himself before Christmas by not taking enough time off sick," Massimo says bluntly. "So long as there is no recognised Heir, I, as External Advisor, can nominate one whenever I choose. I then have to inform Don Vongola of my nomination, so he can either agree with it or nominate somebody else. Then we either invest you as Heir or there's a Ring Battle, but either way it's all formal and regular business is suspended for the duration, barring emergencies. As Heir you are then required to take over a portion of Don Vongola's duties, rotating gradually through the various responsibilities so you are familiar with all of them and have proven your competence to the Family and Allies. Then there's the Inheritance Ceremony, after which you are officially in charge of the Family and can delegate anything to anyone as you please. So do you accept my nomination?"

Xanxus slips the Sky half-ring onto his right hand and tosses the Lightning half-ring at her; she catches it and puts it on the first finger of her left hand. It doesn't fit very well and is an awkward shape; she'll get a chain and string it around her neck.

"It's not much of a birthday present," Massimo says deprecatingly.

"S'perfect," Xanxus contradicts instantly, getting to his feet and moving around the desk to hug his older brother. "Thank-you."

"No, thank-you Xanxus," Massimo says fondly, hugging back and patting his shoulder. "You're going to be a fantastic Tenth. The Family is lucky to have you."

* * *

"Hey, so what's Sprite doing if there really is a Ring Battle?" Squalo asks, leaning against the side of the couch and admiring his new ring. Bel is sprawled in the sun by the window and Lussuria is hanging all over Xanxus, who is almost giddy with glee at finally getting his heart's desire. Well, the first step towards it at least. Mammon is standing on the coffee table and Pýř is leaning against the far wall and glaring at her. It's a fairly half-hearted glare though and he's wearing the Cloud half-ring on a chain around his neck.

"Forfeiting probably," Xanna admits, shifting into a more comfortable position against the cushions. "I'm nowhere near fighting fit and won't be until New Year at the very earliest."

"Your fighting style isn't exactly physical though, is it?" Squalo points out reasonably. "You could skewer somebody from across the room without even getting up." His hair is neatly styled in a long bob that ends a few centimetres below his jaw; he finally gave in and had it trimmed during August and the result is very becoming, if a bit eighties.

"Ring Battles aren't always fights," Xanxus says, smirking cheerfully. "They're competitions to prove which side is more dedicated to protecting the Vongola. Can always make it a fight, but that's not the only option."

"Who picks the contests?" Xanna asks. This is private Vongola succession stuff so she has never heard about it before now.

"The Don or whoever he picks to judge things," Xanxus replies with a shrug. "Sixth was actually the judge for the Ring Battles between Fifth's two sons, but then the older one murdered the younger one for the ring and the ring killed him for it, so Fifth handed over to Sixth instead and retired early."

"So we're not allowed to kill?" Belphegor demands, instantly focusing on the only part he actually cares about.

"It's not necessary," Xanxus enunciates, "but not forbidden. We're supposed to be showing off skill and cunning, not violence. More diplomatic." He makes eye-contact with Xanna and grins. "If murder's easier though, go for it."

"I am a prince and a genius; I do not do things just because they are easy," Bel says haughtily, sticking his nose and the air and folding his arms.

"What happens to the Varia once you become Tenth, Boss?" Mammon asks.

"As Don I can personally run the houses if I want," Xanxus says carelessly, "or I can delegate. Ninth does most of the foreign diplomatic stuff himself; I'm keeping the Varia."

"Do we need to start asking around and seeing who of our friends wants to be an official Vongola diplomat then?" Xanna inquires. Didone would definitely be interested and so would Piero D'Ignoto; Claudio's less adept with formalities than his younger step-brother but he's got a knack for charming the rougher element.

"Got plans, pixie," Xanxus tells her. "You're staying put."

"You've done plenty already, sugar; leave something for the rest of us Guardians, hm?" Lussuria says archly. "Stay on top of the paperwork and focus on your health."

Xanna pouts. "But you're all going to be going out and leaving me here! It'll be boring!"

"Can have your boyfriend over," Xanxus retorts lazily.

"No sex; that definitely counts as exercise," Lussuria interjects firmly. "Nothing that sends up your heart rate, Sprite; your body can't take it yet." It's why she's still banned from actually bathing properly or taking a shower: hot water increases heart rate.

Sex is out due to her condition; that is a truly ironic reversal. "But we can snuggle and gossip and watch movies," Xanna points out, pouting reproachfully. "Not everything is about sex." Everything is more fun when Pantera is doing it with her, including things she would not usually consider fun at all like sunbathing. Well, lazing under a sun umbrella anyway; she's not got the skin for sunbathing to be at all a good idea.

Xanxus sniggers, as does, interestingly enough, Pýř. "He's got responsibilities too," her Sky points out dryly.

"Yes, but he plans for time away from them and takes actual breaks," Xanna says. "When you're surrounded by competent people you should let them participate rather than expect them to look decorative while you it all yourself." Which is her poking at Don Vongola a bit; all his Guardians seem to do half the time is loiter like bodyguards.

"Missions should be tailing off soon," Lussuria offers, "so you'll have more people to talk to again. There's a spike around Halloween in the less Catholic countries, but after that things even out. Christmas and New Years are quiet, but it picks up again in mid-January and stays busy until June, when it starts tailing off for the summer."

"Valentine's," Pýř comments.

"There's a busy period mid-February too, extending into March," Lusssuria corrects himself scrupulously, "and Easter week is often a little slow."

"Hey, d'you think Ninth will nominate somebody?" Squalo asks, changing the subject.

"If he does, it will either be Enrico or Federico," Xanna sighs, "and whichever one does not get nominated will be very offended. Enrico because he's an egotist and assumes he's going to be Tenth, so not getting nominated will make him… I really don't know what he'll do but it will probably be very stupid. Federico because he knows Enrico's an egotist and getting passed over in favour of somebody whose primary concern is self-aggrandisement is extremely offensive, especially considering he's halfway capable despite having no clue how the average person lives." Federico who can't understand the point of paying tax towards public health; he has access to private medical care in his own home, doesn't everybody? Yes he's charming and the upper echelons embrace him as one of their own, but please. The man has no idea of the realities of the average Mafioso, so lacks the understanding necessary to actually rule and care for the Family.

"Probably Federico," Xanxus says idly. "Find out later; think there's a week's grace on the Advisor or Don informing the other party."

"Massimo's probably going to take that then," Xanna muses, "or some of it anyway, to see how Ninth's recovery goes. Or doesn't go."

"So what do we do in the meantime?" Belphegor demands petulantly.

"Missions?" Xanxus suggests, turning around to catch his Storm's eye. "Got a messy one here."

"Oooh! The Prince wants it!"

* * *

The summons from Don Vongola arrives on Friday evening, requesting –expecting– their attendance first thing the following morning. Squalo is mildly smug at getting to miss school –Xanna will be bursting his bubble after the meeting– Bel is grumpy about having to get up early right after getting back from his mission, Mammon doesn't care and Pýř is cranky because now he's going to have to make his position official. Xanxus and Lussuria are more concerned about her; she's cleared for light exercise now and is walking reasonably well, but the braces aren't off yet. Luss hasn't let her menstrual cycle resume yet either; less mess for Medical to deal with while she was bed-bound and less work for her body while it's fixing her skeleton.

"I was planning on taking them off on Monday," the Sun Officer admits, pressing the side of his forefinger against his teeth, "and yes, that's just a few days away, but I'm already pushing the healing process as far as I can. I don't want you to re-break anything, which is a definite risk still. A very small risk," he amends, glancing at their Sky, "but still a risk. You're doing really well and I don't want to ruin that."

"Keep the braces, find a wheelchair," Xanxus decides abruptly. "I'll assign a few Lightnings as guards."

"Why are we playing up my infirmity?" Xanna asks curiously. That is not at all her Sky's usual angle.

Xanxus holds up a finger. "Don Vongola looks bad summoning an invalid at no notice." His middle finger joins the forefinger. "The Ring Battles possibly get delayed, so you're in fighting shape for them." Third finger rises. "I look considerate and reasonable in not pushing you too hard." Little finger joins the party. "Element of surprise."

"Very diplomatic," Xanna agrees teasingly, making her Sky roll his eyes at her, the subtle reference to his recent undiplomatic loss of reason so well-worn now to have entirely lost its sting. She is going to go on 'complimenting' him on his diplomacy forever, just to remind him that he once forgot the entire contents of his high-school education and that the incident is sufficiently forgiven to be valid teasing material.

"Why do you want to delay the Ring Battles, Boss?" Squalo asks curiously.

"Possible Ring Battles," Xanxus corrects absently; "not guaranteed. Ninth may not nominate another Heir and if it's Federico he may just hand over the half-rings; knows the Family favours me and he can't match me in a fight." Yes that's a good point; Federico is well aware of how skilled her Sky is.

"So why the delay, you?" Squalo repeats, folding his arms as his eye twitches in annoyance.

"Pressure," their Sky says simply, smiling evilly.

"Oh, yes," Xanna realises gleefully. "Pressure on whichever brother wasn't chosen to find themselves a niche in the wider Alliance, to pick a side or to crack and do something stupid. Pressure on the one who was chosen to shape up and match the standard you are setting, both in effectively leading a Vongola House with a reputation for being, ah, 'difficult', and in having Guardians who are personally dangerous rather than just politically connected. Pressure on the Vongola's enemies, to pick which Heir they think is most dangerous and assassinate them ahead of time, and on the Allies to decide which one to cosy up to."

"Fun times," Xanxus agrees predatorily.

"So since we are playing up the 'fragile damsel' aspect, I suppose you're dressing me accordingly?" she guesses.

Xanxus nods. "Skirt," he says firmly.

"Over the uniform," Xanna counters; "I want to be armoured for this, please." Since moving out of the Iron Fort she has come to really dislike visiting it.

"Of course." Her Sky smirks. "You look cute in a tutu."

Xanna sighs. "You like ogling my legs, don't you."

"Very nice legs."

"You have a boyfriend; I have a boyfriend!"

"Aesthetics," Xanxus teases her, smug as a cat surrounded by canary feathers. "Beauty is not sexual."

"I would believe that from a lot of other people but I know you," Xanna says dryly. She knows her Sky thinks she's sexy; he recognises she is completely off-limits by virtue of their respective pledges and he is not going to try anything with her, but he's still attracted to her body. He just doesn't let it influence his behaviour. Mostly. There have been instances of teenage hormones overwhelming reason.

Xanxus shrugs, unrepentant. "Legs are more visible without the skirt," he points out.

Xanna rolls her eyes; she knows he knows all about the principle of hidden things being more attractive by stimulating the imagination; nudity isn't sexy the way lingerie is and secrecy and concealment add a thrill to everything.

"Why are you arguing?" Bel asks. "You're going to wear the skirt, fairy."

"Yes, stop flirting with my man, Sprite," Lussuria adds, smiling to take the sting from his words.

Xanna huffs, folding her arms; ganging up on her, are they? "Does it have to be Lightnings?" she asks, "Not that I don't appreciate them, but they're not too hot on initiative and even stuck on the couch I can beat half of them in a straight fight." The Varia is made up of assassins, which is part of it, but most of the issue is that she really is that much better with Flames than they are. Which she is trying to remedy, but it is proving to be a challenge.

"You were thinking?" Xanxus looks a little wary.

Xanna grins toothily. "I want Marvel Squad."

"Those lunatics?" Squalo looks horrified.

"Why?" Even Mammon looks a little baffled, although it's hard to tell through the hood.

"Because they are highly visible lunatics and they are _your_ lunatics," Xanna says firmly, making eye-contact with Xanxus. "They know how to behave professionally and will do if we ask nicely. They will also be very, very distracting for Don Vongola and effectively showcase that you do in fact control the Varia. Completely. To the point that you can assign a team of complete head-cases to babysitting an invalid and they will do it, because you asked."

"Diplomacy," her Sky sighs, looking annoyed. "Fine."

"Thank-you." She can be gracious in victory.

"They call you Glitterspike," Pýř comments, finally speaking up.

Xanna guesses that is an obscure Marvel character she'd never heard of. "I don't care, nobody is going to be able to think about possibly starting something with them looming."

"Nobody's going to be able to think about anything," Squalo says flatly. That is precisely her point.

"War by any other means, fishie," Bel comments smugly.

"YOU! Don't call me that!" Squalo lunges at the Storm Officer, who cackles and pulls out his knives. Xanna sits tight on the couch and watches the chaos unfold, enjoying how much her Sky is enjoying the show.

* * *

The thing about Marvel Squad is, they are the crazy people the Varia doesn't want to allow in but does anyway because when a man –or woman– can untraceably murder a target while being as purple as Violet Beauregard or dressed as Captain America, they are inarguably Varia Quality. Embarrassingly over-enthusiastic and slightly too eccentric to fit in with the rest of the professional killers, but still Quality.

Xanna likes them. They are completely unapologetic about what they like and won't diminish themselves to better fit into other people's mental boxes, their sense of humour is fantastic, they're not taking themselves too seriously and are the epitome of refuge in audacity. Seriously: Fixer walks around wearing what looks like half the contents of an electronics store, Purple Man is actually purple –all over and that has to be some kind of skin Alteration rather than body paint– Hulk wears a green bodysuit, gloves and full-face hood with his uniform, Patriot is the aforementioned Captain America impersonator –fifties' style in a blue Lycra shirt and cowl with red gloves and boots– and Hawkeye wears a purple bodysuit under his Varia jacket and has somehow managed to dye the uniform trousers purple as well.

Their uniform violations are so outrageous that Xanxus's recent decision to dress her in tulle and gauze skirts over the regular trousers barely registers in comparison. Not that anybody in the Varia really cares enough about uniform violations to bother doling out punishments, but they do get noticed.

"Don't think a wheelchair would convey quite the right image, Boss," Hawkeye says, high-tech recurve bow slung casually across his back. "It puts her well below eye-level when everybody else is standing, cutting her out of conversation and fostering disrespect, and means that we can feasibly be kept standing around in a hallway in a power play."

Xanxus raises an eyebrow, encouraging the Squad Leader to continue. "Solution?"

"We carry her, Boss," Hawkeye says confidently. "Hulk and Fixer are about the same height, they can do a four-handed carry and that'll keep her up at eye height while also forcing the staff to show us into a meeting room right away. It's also more convenient for stairs, steps and carpets, all of which the Iron Fort has as it's an old building and designed to be tricky to navigate. Patriot, no; Fixer, stop giving him ideas," the archer adds, not even looking around at the two individuals in question.

Fixer's hands drop and Patriot pouts at the back of his Squad Leader's head.

"Don't look at me like that, you know what you did," Hawkeye retorts, still looking at Xanxus as he addresses his unruly underlings.

"She falls and you'll be two men short," Xanxus says mildly. It sounds a bit extreme, but Xanna knows that a fall at this point in time could easily re-break something and she does not want to spend another month in bed either.

"I promise she won't even be jarred," Hawkeye promises –somewhat rashly– making all his variously slouching Squad members arrayed behind him smarten up instantly.

Her Sky nods, getting to his feet. "Get moving," he orders, walking past her on the couch and heading for the door, Squalo and Bel at his heels while Mammon floats up onto Pýř's shoulder and Lussuria hovers fussily over her, his fingers lightly brushing her neck to give him one last check of her progress.

"Come on then, Officer," Patriot says cheerfully, bending down and gripping her thighs through the gauzy skirt. Xanna plants her hands on his shoulders and lets him lift her up off the couch; this way is a bit uncomfortable but it's better for her back than being lifted by the waist, especially since she's still wearing a back-brace. Patriot then turns around and holds her still as Fixer and Hulk grip wrists to make a seat, stepping closer so she can rest her hands on their shoulders and lower herself into a sitting position on their clasped hands.

Patriot releases her as soon as he's not carrying her weight and moves well out of the way, following his Squad Leader out of the room ahead of her little entourage. Purple Man falls in behind them, as much to catch her in case of something going wrong as anything else –he's a Mist– and her other three fellow Officers bring up the rear.

They're not quite going to war, but they're definitely well-prepared for any unexpected skirmishes.

* * *

It's completely inappropriate, but Xanna's has Billy Joel's 'We Didn't Start The Fire' running around her head as they arrive at the Iron Fort and are –as Hawkeye predicted– instantly shown into a generously sized meeting room.

We didn't start the fire; it was always burning since the world's been turning…

It's kind of hilariously apt considering Flames, really.

Fixer and Hulk smoothly decant her onto a chair just left of centre at one side of the oval table –there are a lot of oval tables in the Iron Fort and you can almost read a room's mood by how close to properly circular its table is– and Xanxus sits immediately to her right, Squalo on his right and Lussuria past him. Bel settles on her immediate left, Mammon lands gently on the table on the far side of the eight-year-old and Pýř walks leisurely around behind everybody else to sit down beside Lussuria. Marvel Squad loiter with intent, ambling vaguely around the room and poking at the fixtures.

Xanna has not even made it through two more verses –they are very tricky to get right– when the door opens again and Massimo walks in, flanked by four familiar Guardians and three people she vaguely recognises from them accompanying Sawada places. Senior CEDEF analysts, probably.

"Brother," Xanxus says, getting to his feet and letting Massimo hug him. Xanna can't comfortably turn her head around that far while wearing the brace and the chairs are heavy; Fixer notices and elbows Purple Man, who gestures vaguely and turns the chair for her.

"Good to see you, little brother," Massimo replies warmly. "A full compliment already? Congratulations!"

"Who's your new one?" Xanxus asks in return, nodding at the tall, forbidding-looking man with buzz-cut brown hair and narrowed eyes. He is a Guardian? If so he is very new.

"Currently going by Turmeric," Massimo shares, grimacing. "At present the CEDEF naming theme is herbs and spices."

"It's not cake," Xanxus points out, amused but mild.

"Got to wonder what Dad was thinking there," Massimo grumbles, the complaint well-worn and probably rhetorical. "You come up with a theme yet?"

"They're all Officers," her Sky says, deliberately obtuse. Massimo glares at him.

"That's only going to work for as long as they're Varia."

"Got time," Xanxus shrugs. "Demons or Angels maybe." Well Belphegor is already a demon; how long has Xanxus been thinking about this?

Massimo deliberately covers his eyes with one hand. "Of course you would go for something outrageous," he mutters plaintively.

"New theme for the CEDEF?" Xanxus asks, smirking at his brother's dismay.

"Plants," Massimo says instantly, lowering his hand. "That way the people who are comfortable with their current codenames can keep them." Considering that the CEDEF is primarily an intelligence and espionage organisation, that's also rather punny.

The door opens again; Xanxus holds out a hand to stop her from trying to get up. The rest of the Officers follow the cue as well, staying in their seats but turning to stare at Don Vongola and his entourage.

His reduced entourage; Bouche is not present and neither is Ganauche. Ninth is also looking diminished in himself, which may be a result of his recent and likely still-lingering illness. Nougat and Visconti don't look much better.

"My sons," he acknowledges quietly, making his way to the other end of the table and his four present Guardians staying close. Xanxus glances at Hawkeye then at the door; the Marvel Squad Leader takes his cue and leads the Squad out, closing the door firmly behind them. Most of the Squad; Purple Man has been left behind and walks around the room to stand beside her chair. Definitely playing up her infirmity.

The Don sits; so do his Guardians. Xanxus glances at Massimo, touches the top of her chair-back then sits also; Purple Man spins her chair so she is facing the table again and Massimo and his people move around the table so the new External Advisor is standing to Mammon's left, his Guardians and other subordinates in the open space between the table and the door.

"No candidate?" Xanxus drawls, breaking the silence before it really gets going.

Don Vongola sighs quietly, looking even more tired all of a sudden. "You have the unanimous support of the Family," he admits, voice not as strong or as steady as it was the last time she heard it, "and considering who you have selected as your Guardians, I am loathe to see either of my other sons bereaved." That was a pathetic excuse when Xanxus had said that the Ring Battles did not have to be fights; Ninth could set hypothetical scenarios or paperwork filing or anything else at all as the challenge if he wanted to! It was also a jab at Xanxus's choice of Guardians, of course, but that was obvious. Never mind rude.

"Have you brought the half-rings then?" Massimo asks, tone polite but firm. Don Vongola nods, reaching into his jacket and producing a box identical to the one Massimo gift-wrapped for Xanxus on Monday, which he places on the table in front of him.

Xanxus does not look at the box; his eyes are on Don Vongola. It is Massimo who walks around the table, takes it, opens it, nods and walks back to set it in front of Xanxus. Her Sky then carefully unstrings the half-ring from around his neck, slots it together with the Sky half-ring in the box and threads it onto his finger, briefly lighting it up with his Flames.

Nothing happens, although clearly a few of Ninth's Guardians expected something to happen going by their faces. Xanxus hands her the Lightning, Storm and Mist half-rings then pushes the box sideways in front of Squalo, who fishes out and slots together his own ring as she hands the two relevant half-rings on to Bel and Mammon. Squalo then slides the box on to Lussuria and Pýř, who assemble their rings as Xanna does her own.

Oddly enough, once she puts on the complete ring it fits perfectly.

"So now what, Ninth?" Xanxus asks evenly, hands folded on the table and ring prominent.

Don Vongola looks like a man at his own execution; he clearly knows Xanxus has somehow orchestrated this but can't see how. When he looks at Xanxus he seems to see the angry insecure child her Sky used to be and not the confident and resilient young man that child has grown into.

So maybe she's a little smug about her part in Xanxus achieving that.

"You are already running the Varia, so I will arrange individual meetings with the other House Heads and underbosses," the Don says evenly. "Visits to premises and meeting members is at their discretion." Another attempt to trip Xanxus up; her Sky responds accordingly:

"I know the names of all the Heads and underbosses," he says casually, "and their various official and personal contact details. I can arrange the meetings myself; you don't need to worry. Take some time off and rest a bit." In other words, I know all those people already and they like me. You are clearly not at your best to think I don't when they are all supporting me as Tenth. Old man.

"Do you have a timeline for the Inheritance Ceremony in mind, or are we playing it by ear?" Massimo asks, moving the conversation back towards official things.

"The Inheritance Ceremony cannot take place until Xanxus has passed the Trial," Don Vongola says firmly. Xanna can hear the capital 'T' there.

"Trial?" Xanxus asks carefully, eyes narrowing.

"It is a Vongola Secret; you will know it when you face it," Ninth says elliptically. Xanna instantly resolves to ask Signora Vongola about it.

"Once he passes the trial, what kind of interval would be sufficient to arrange the Inheritance Ceremony?" Massimo asks, not yielding even slightly.

Don Vongola pauses. "Provided he passes the Trial, four months should be sufficient to arrange appropriate security measures and send out proper invitations." It's a faintly reluctant admission, but Ninth has committed now and can't back out; Xanxus is Heir and will soon be officially recognised as Tenth.

"I will start background checks and vetting potential locations at once then, so as to be adequately prepared when the time comes," Massimo says briskly. "Little brother, may I have a word afterwards?"

"Of course," Xanxus agrees easily. "Is there anything else, Ninth?"

Don Vongola hesitates. "I am very proud of how far you have come, my son," he says quietly.

Her Sky nods, accepting the words but not moved by them; Xanna very much doubts that Xanxus will ever be moved by Ninth ever again after the double betrayal of not being the man's biological son and getting told to his face that his so-called father would prefer any other candidate lead the Vongola.

"I had excellent teachers," is all her Sky says, an implied indictment because Don Vongola has always been far too busy to teach Xanxus anything; always willing and able to dote and spoil, but never to teach or guide. He then rises to his feet and nods, glancing above her head at Purple Man; the door opens and Marvel Squad file back in, prompting the rest of the Officers to stand up and move away so her porters can sweep her off her feet again.

This has been fairly anticlimactic as meetings go, but Xanna has no illusions that this is the end of the obstacles between her Sky and achieving his ambition. Even without counting that 'Trial' thing.

* * *

The rest of October is intensely busy for everybody except Xanna, who is still barred from anything more strenuous than paperwork and a gentle exercise routine. Lussuria's stopped delaying her menstrual cycle though, so that's going to be making itself felt sooner or later. There are Varia missions, there are meetings with various other Alliance Heads, Dons and underbosses and then there is the breast cancer fundraising event Francesco, Pantera and Xanxus have been preparing for since her birthday half a year ago. She is out of the brace by then –during the day at least– and manages to attend part of it –and spend several hours with Pantera– but it's too big for her to see everything, she's still recovering from her injuries and nowhere near as fit as she should be so she gets a lift back to the Varia in the early afternoon and takes a nap.

Xanxus of course doesn't get back until very late, because he's hosting alongside his fellow Heirs and needs to be visible. Xanna made an effort to be visible so long as she was there and mentioned to a few people that she only got off bed rest recently, before letting her two shadows –Xanxus insisted– drive her home after getting a goodnight kiss –lots of goodnight kisses– from Pantera. She also spent quite a lot of money on games, street food and various pink things, including a pair of dark pink legwarmers she intends to wear while getting back into shape once Lussuria decides she's well enough for real exercise. They apparently prevent muscle cramps and her muscles will be burning enough as it is without adding extra pain on top of that.

The next morning Xanna wakes up to her Sky dead to the world and drooling on her shoulder, smelling of cigarette smoke, sex and alcohol. Levering him off her, Xanna takes a shower –finally allowed, thank-you Lussuria– and washes her hair, then takes advantage of Xanxus's continued unconsciousness to dress in something comfortable and casual and go find breakfast.

Somewhat miraculously her Sky is still asleep when she gets back, so Xanna sits down on the bed with her back against the headboard, gently tugs Xanxus's shoulder across her thighs and balances her loaded tray across his upper back. He barely moves at all while she eats, shifting just once to press his face against her hip and mumble something incomprehensible, fingers twining through her belt loops.

Escaping again after breakfast is a little trickier, but she manages and spends a few hours doing paperwork before fetching a mat and slowly, carefully working through the exercise routine Luss has recommended to help her start getting back into Quality shape. It's all smooth flowing movements and designed to use all of her muscles without putting too much strain on her spine, which the Sun Officer is far more worried about than her arms or ribs. She's going to be having daily checks on her vertebrae for the next six months at the very least, possibly longer; not that she has any objections when Lussuria has already foiled three separate instances of bone spurs growing in ways that would reduce her mobility and put pressure on her nerves. One of those instances required Mist-surgery to counter, which meant spending the entire day lying on her front in Medical while Lussuria and six different Mists pored over her entire spinal column in an attempt to thwart any other misaligned growth that might be emerging. The spurs are an unfortunate consequence of speeding up the healing of her bones but could have happened naturally too, if generally much later on in life. Lussuria is probably going to be keeping an eye on her skeleton for the rest of their lives anyway.

Lussuria does not drag himself in to check on her until nearly lunchtime, which tells her he didn't get back until really late either. Actually, considering the state of her Sky, they probably both got back very late then proceeded to sex each-other up, delaying sleep even further. Although if Xanxus did do that, why the hell didn't he stay with his boyfriend for the night?

"Hello honey, you're looking perky," the Sun Officer says, smiling and walking over to join her by the window. "No aches or pains anywhere?"

"Just burning muscles so far," Xanna assures him, pulling her long-sleeved shirt off over her head so he can examine her spine properly.

"Good to hear. Do a forward bend for me please, slowly," Lussuria says, standing to one side with fingers flat against the very top and bottom of her spine as she gently, smoothly bends forward at the waist until her upper body is parallel to the floor, then on until her forehead is inches from her knees. "Excellent sugar-lump. Now upright, then backwards; you don't have to go all the way; just as far as is comfortable."

Xanna obeys, keeping the movement steady and careful. Tearing a muscle because she was impatient would be incredibly stupid of her.

"Beautiful. Now upright again. Good. Sideways bends now," Lussuria tells her, moving around so he's standing behind her. Sideways bends are a bit more awkward –those muscles haven't been properly used in a while– but she manages well enough.

"Everything's holding well darling, so I'm clearing you for moderate exercise. But you must do a long, slow, thorough warm-up beforehand and a full cool-down afterwards; your body's got less give in it right now and you need to be gentle, or else a stiff muscle or a cramp will pull on a mending bone and slow the healing process. If your back knots up don't ignore it, get a back massage," the Sun Officer finishes, taking his hands off her skin and handing her back her shirt.

Xanna wiggles it over her head again, glad to have a layer between her skin and the cool autumn air; the window is open to air the office and the breeze is a little brisk. "Full warm-ups, long cool-downs, nothing acrobatic or jarring," she repeats back to her fellow Officer. "Am I still on the high-calcium diet?" She's been eating a lot of fresh greens, eggs and tinned fish lately.

"Yes and you need more sunlight honey; you need vitamin D to absorb calcium properly," Lussuria scolds her, tapping her nose. "Move your exercise routine onto the terrace and do some walking in the grounds, please?"

Xanna is not massively keen to do either of those things –she is not a big fan of direct sunlight and her skin burns easily– but doctor's orders are what they are. At least it's no longer so hot out. "If you say so, Luss."

"I do say so, sweet thing," the Sun Officer tells her sternly. "It's warm enough to go without a jacket, so a white or light-coloured long-sleeved shirt on your top half and no more."

"With a hat and sunglasses," Xanna insists; sunlight is _bright_ and she doesn't like the prickly feeling of sunshine on the shell of her ear.

"Acceptable; I don't want you getting burned," Lussuria agrees, kissing his fingertips and tapping them on her jaw. "Hop to it, darling!"

Xanna does not actually hop, but she heads back into the bedroom to find her sunhat and shades. Xanxus is still out, her pyjamas tangled around his arms; she had to distract him with them in order to escape after breakfast, deliberately pushing more of her Flames into the fabric and the rest of the bedding. It's coming up on noon, when did he actually get in? Four?

She leaves him a note to change the bedding –it stinks of all the things he was doing before coming to bed and she's not a fan– and where she's gone, pins it to the big mirror above the vanity and heads out, putting on her Varia boots. They look incongruous with the loose shirt and linen trousers she's wearing, but Xanna doesn't care. She's comfortable.

* * *

Her walk turns into a late picnic lunch on the lawn when the other Varia in the building notice she's out of the suite and ambush her with food, cushions and gossip. Xanna still doesn't know everybody's name –she's trying okay– but it's nice to sit and chat and laugh again.

Although everything stutters to a halt when Xanxus comes looking for her and sits down next to her, leaning across her front to rest his head on her opposite shoulder and wrap his arms around her middle, slumping into her with a grunt.

"Boss?" She asks, poking him in the ribs. There is a grumble in her ear but no other reply. "Xanxus?" Nothing. The last time he acted like this was…

"I heard Boss and Lussuria broke things off yesterday," one of the newer Ladies comments, a Mist with a fondness for horror movies. Well, that confirms Xanna's thought.

"Someone get me a drink then?" she asks. Xanxus is perfectly capable of breaking off a relationship he's no longer comfortable with and getting on with his life like nothing has happened, but when the relationship ends without him seeing it coming then he sulks. The kind of stubborn, quiet, clingy sulking that is a cover for confusion, hurt and heavy thinking; it doesn't last long –it'll probably all be over before the end of the week– but it's high effort for her in the meantime.

"Did Boss get dumped?" some incautious soul asks quietly. Xanxus doesn't move, but his Flames twitch ever so slightly.

"Clear your schedule," Xanna tells the idiot dryly, "because he's going to make you suffer for saying that."

"But everybody's thinking it, Officer!"

"They didn't say it," Xanna says flatly, "you did. Congratulations on making yourself a target."

"Merde." The assassin flops backwards onto the grass with a groan. "I am a fool. A moron. A loon."

Xanna ignored the ongoing self-flagellation in favour of hugging her Sky and playing with his hair a little. "I take it this is to do with your being Tenth now and needing to contribute to the succession at some point?" She murmurs.

"Hn." Well, it's an answer and it's not a 'no', so Xanna will take it. She presses a quick kiss to his neck.

"Take your time, crow."

The way he relaxes into her is very comforting, even though she is technically the one offering comfort right now. What with her Sky being furious with his father and all those broken bones, it's been a months since they've hugged properly. She's missed it.

* * *

"So, what happened?" Xanna asks at bedtime. "You went out to the fundraiser, had fun, had sex then decided it wasn't going to work anymore?"

Xanxus slumps on the edge of the bed. "Evening before the fundraiser."

"So you decided to break it off, then went out and partied together anyway?"

Xanxus shifts guiltily, not looking her in the eye. Xanna abruptly has a very bad feeling. "Xanxus, what did you do?"

Her Sky stares at her bare feet like they hold the secrets of the universe. "You were right," he mutters eventually.

"About what, specifically?" Xanna inquires, stripping out of her shirt and bra and putting on a clean pyjama top.

"One night stands are shit."

Oh dear. "Xanxus, did you go out and get drunk alone while you were still hurting from Lussuria pointing out your relationship was doomed and then seduce some random stranger?"

"Yes." Xanxus looks up at her, eyes flat and defiant. "The sex wasn't anything special and she just wandered off afterwards for a cigarette without even asking my name."

Xanna can't help the laugh bubbling in her throat; this isn't funny at all but at the same time is kind of is. "Crow, I love you dearly," she tells him softly, pushing his shoulders back so she can sit on his lap, "but that was a really stupid thing to do."

"Know that _now_ ," her Sky grumbles, wrapping his arms around her and falling backwards onto the mattress, "won't do it again."

"I think you knew before too, featherbrain," Xanna needles, poking him in the ribs, "and I'm not impressed with your decision to crawl in bed with me right after without even showering first. That's rude."

"Sorry." Xanxus kisses the top of her head, "got drunker afterwards."

"Did you at least use a condom?" Xanna asks with a sigh. This is very definitely the most stupidly teenage thing her Sky has ever done. It's so normal she almost wants to cry.

"Wasn't that drunk then." So that's a yes; good.

"How did you get back if you were that drunk?" Xanna wants to know.

"Housekeeping set up a few cars; caught the last wave." He means Varia Housekeeping, of course. Wait, the last wave?

"You got in at six in the morning?" He'd only been there half an hour when she woke up? No wonder he didn't even stir.

Xanxus shifts under her. "Maybe?"

Xanna shrugs his arms off and sits up properly so she can glare down at him. "Just because I'm not there to remind you to be sensible does not mean you can go off and do idiotic shit."

Her Sky peeks up at her from under lowered lashes and pouts soulfully, arms sprawled out across the blankets. "I'm sixteen now," he says abruptly.

"So?" Xanna can't see the connection. "If you think being sixteen means you have free reign to make dumbass decisions then I have bad, bad news for you."

Xanxus chuckles, shaking his head and pushing his hair out of his face. "No, I mean. Definitely not a child anymore." The intensity in his eyes abruptly brings to mind another conversation with a much younger Xanxus and Xanna is suddenly acutely aware that she's straddling her Sky's hips.

"Not a child," she agrees, getting off him, "but still not an adult." She's nineteen and sixteen is not as young to her as thirteen was at sixteen, but it's still young and any nineteen-year-old guy trying to date a sixteen-year-old girl is definitely up to no good, so why should the rules be different for her? True, Xanxus looks closer to eighteen than sixteen due to Active Flames accelerating development, but she knows him. He's not quite there in his head yet even if his body's finished growing. Mostly.

Her Sky doesn't try to sit up, just twists his head to go on staring intently at her. "Eighteen then?"

"Xanxus, you promised me." No sexual favours; she _can't_.

This time he does sit up. "Not like that! I, you don't need me as much anymore," he says quietly, turning to face her properly. "You're getting shelter on your own merits now and would be with the Varia even if I wasn't here too; you've got all the education you need and can follow up on anything else you want whenever, you've got my protection still but you don't need it, not really; and the Varia do better work in identity paperwork than the old fart ever bothered to give you. It's not, what are you getting out of this that you can't do for yourself now?"

Xanna considers this. It hurts. "You want to end our pledge."

"Yes. No! Sort of?" Xanxus says, grabbing her hands and holding them against his chest. "You're my Lightning; you'll _always_ be my Lightning. But I don't want you to do things for me because you feel obliged; I want you to do things because you want to. Or not do things because you don't want to, even though they're nothing to do with lying, murder or sex."

This… "What brought this on?"

Xanxus drops his eyes, fiddling with her fingers. "You never defied me before. Over anything," he says quietly. "You argued sometimes, persuaded me to compromise, but you never just said 'no' and refused to budge unless it was over the pledge. I, I was stupid. Don't isn't the same as can't, or don't want to. The pledge isn't fair to you. It was never fair. I'm sorry."

Oh. That's not something she expected to ever come up, to be honest. "It was fair to begin with, while I was reeling from whatever it was that happened to me and depending on you for everything," Xanna replies, twining her fingers with his. "But you're right; it's not been fair for a while now." Not that she ever really minded; life isn't fair and she chose this. She had everything she needed to live well, so she mainly ignored the wide world outside her self-imposed chains.

"I want it to be fair," Xanxus growls, glancing up to meet her eyes again.

"So we release each-other and make a new pledge?" Xanna asks carefully. She… she could like that. Being allowed to make her own choices around him again. Adjusting would be bumpy but she would like it. She makes her own choices when she's with Pantera, but getting to do so at home as well… it appeals.

"You don't have to make a new pledge," Xanxus says cautiously. "You don't have to promise me anything to stay. You've signed the Varia contracts and the Vongola Guardian agreement. That's plenty."

Oh. Yes. She has signed both of those, hasn't she? He couldn't get rid of her even if he wanted to, not without resorting to outright murder. Xanna feels lightheaded. "I'd like to be friends," she admits. "Properly friends." Putting up with him because she wants to, not because she has to.

Xanxus takes both her hands in his and lifts them to his lips, kissing them. "I, Xanxus Vongola, do release you from your pledge to me," he states formally, then tugs her forwards for a hug. "There."

Xanna laughs. It sounds rather hysterical and continues even as her eyes fill with tears. Her Sky settles her more comfortably in his lap and engulfs her in a warm, reassuring embrace that does not let up even as she wails and hiccups and sniffles messily into his pyjama shirt.

"Will you stay with me? In my rooms I mean?" Xanxus asks very softly once the tears have passed.

"So long as you don't push on the dating thing," Xanna mumbles back. She doesn't want to sleep alone; she can't do it anymore.

"Eighteen; I can wait," Xanxus murmurs.

"If you aren't madly in love with somebody else by then." And she completely forgot about Pantera until just now, how did that happen? "And if I am not seeing somebody else, like I actually am currently." She is very happy with Pantera and would actually be even happier if the relationship didn't ever end. He'd make a fantastic husband.

Xanxus lightly clonks his head against hers. "Fuck! Pantera. Sorry."

"I will be kind and not tell him you propositioned me," Xanna concedes.

"Thank-you," Xanxus says fervently, then yawns. "Sleep now?"

"Sleep now." It's a whole new world and she's going to have to make an effort to adjust.

* * *

"No." It figures this would be the first clash.

Xanxus stills. "You don't like makeup?" It's barely a whisper.

Xanna gropes for the right words before her Sky can drown himself in guilt. "I am perfectly happy to wear makeup for parties and events and special occasions, or even just for fun sometimes, but in the everyday I prefer to just be me. I didn't mind it at school because you used it to express yourself, but now I'd rather go without."

"Okay." Xanxus doesn't look or sound okay, so Xanna hugs him.

"It makes you happy. I don't mind at all. But right now I want to do things I want to do, because now I can."

"Okay." Her Sky sounds much more confident now. "No skirts either then?" He sounds a little wistful.

"No, not for now," Xanna confirms. "But I don't hate them, so maybe later."

"Thanks." He still looks a little down, but not like he hurts.

"Hey, you want skirts, you wear one," she suggests. "You've got the legs for a kilt."

Xanxus snorts. "Think Luss would go for a Varia tartan?"

Xanna giggles. A specific tartan pattern, just for the Varia? Luss would be thrilled. "Suggest it," she tells him, "then watch Squalo bellow and flail over having to wear plaid for next year's uniform." It will probably end up being a mostly black tartan, possibly with a few thin white or red lines, and is likely to see more use in scarves and sashes than in kilts. Still. Thankfully the Varia's uniforms are rather fluid in what is considered 'standard', as many choose to have customisations and alterations put into their uniforms while they're being made.

Her Sky's eyes light up with mischief. "Wicked pixie," he says fondly, kissing her cheek and ambling off out of the room, already plotting.

Xanna giggles again, puts on her uniform with another comfortably loose long-sleeved shirt and heads out to do her warm-up routine before breakfast.

* * *

It's just after New Year, the slow week leading up to Epiphany, and Xanna is delighting in the return of her fitness and full physical health. Her bones are all fully mended –although the evidence will linger for months or even years yet– and she's still having to eat carefully, but she is officially out of Medical's care and back on duty and has been since just after Christmas. Of course the Varia celebrated this by poisoning her lunch, but hey. Can't have everything and it gave her an excuse to throw it in the face of the idiot who thought she wouldn't notice. She personally celebrated by taking an afternoon off to seduce her boyfriend, which was all kinds of fun.

She is happily bouncing off the walls of one of the larger training rooms when somebody bangs on the door. "Come in!"

It's one of her Lightnings. "Your boyfriend's on the phone, Officer."

Xanna dashes upstairs, knowing already that it's too late and some assassin or other has been cheerfully talking to Pantera for at least ten minutes by now but not wanting to put him through any more insanity if she can help it.

Reaching her office she snatches the phone out of the hands of one of her Squad Leaders –Igor, go memory!– and waves him out of the room with a quick smile. "Hello, Sprite speaking." Igor smiles back and wanders out, closing the door behind him.

"Hello Sprite," it's Pantera, sounding a bit dazed. Igor can do that to people; he doesn't quite live in reality as she knows it, or indeed reality as any other Varia experiences it. "Think you can come over this evening?"

Like she's going to say no to that. "Of course! Would five be too early?"

"Five is fine." He does sound a bit out of it; was Igor that baffling? "I hope my Squad Leader didn't bamboozle you too badly," Xanna offers.

There's a soft chuckle down the phone. "I am still adjusting to the hazards of calling you at work," her boyfriend agrees much more warmly. "It is an experience; a completely different one each time."

"Well we wouldn't be Varia Quality if we were predictable, would we?" Xanna teases, relieved that there's nothing too seriously wrong. "I'll see you later, Pantera."

"You too Sprite." He hangs up; Xanna puts the phone down, surveys her desk critically and decides the paperwork can wait; she wants to get another few hours training in before showering and packing an overnight bag. She may not stay overnight at her boyfriend's, but she won't even have the opportunity if she isn't prepared for it.

* * *

When five o'clock comes around she strong-arms the first assassin she catches walking past the door of the suite to drive her up to the Superbi Estate –Xanxus is definitely a terrible influence but seriously, they _know_ he does this so they really are asking for it– and then sends him off back to the Varia with the promise that she'll call when she wants a lift home. Or to say that she doesn't want a lift home; she's still going to call. Then she shoulders her bag, bounces on her toes in her boots –the only bit of the uniform she's still wearing– and walks up through the intermittent drizzle to the front step of the guest house Pantera has moved out into. It's not quite proper rain but it's still annoying and she's glad she has her coat.

"Xanna," Pantera says upon opening the door, "come in and warm up." He doesn't look great; is he coming down with something? It's barely been two days since she last saw him…

She walks inside, kicks off her boots, hangs up her coat and pulls her flats out of her bag to wear indoors. "I'm not that cold; my driver kept the air blasting hot all the way out here," she shares, stepping close for a hug. He hugs her back fiercely; okay so maybe not ill. Bad news from a family member then? Her boyfriend always takes that kind of thing hard. He loves everyone in his family, even those who are eccentric or particular.

"Good to hear," he says quietly. "Join me in the kitchen?" Oh, he's cooking? Lucky her.

"Of course," Xanna chirps, kissing him lightly and waving a hand. "Lead on!"

Once they're in the kitchen Xanna perches on the edge of the table and watches her boyfriend chop vegetables and put a tray of likëngë in the oven. She really likes those sausages; they're local to the town nearest the Varia and Housekeeping serves them every week.

Once the vegetables are all simmering or frying gently Pantera sets a timer and turns around. He looks stricken.

"What's wrong?" Something is clearly very wrong.

Her boyfriend runs his hands through his hair, tugging on the ends; Xanna slides off the table and takes his hands in hers. "Talk to me, 'Tera."

Her boyfriend hangs his head, then looks her in the eye. "I can't marry you."

What?

"I'm the Superbi Heir, I _like_ being the Superbi Heir and looking after my Family," Pantera barrels on, talking more quickly than she's ever heard before, "but I can't ask you to marry me because then you'd be Donna Superbi and you'd be expected to put my Family first too when you can't because you're Xanxus's Lighting Guardian and he's going to be Tenth. I can't ask you to stop being his Guardian! You love it! It's who you are! So I can't marry you." He is trembling by the time he finishes, breath unsteady. "Sorry," he whispers.

It's true. It's completely, relentlessly, painfully true. She can't ask him to step down from leading his Family to marry her either, not when he loves being Heir and looking after all the Superbi so much. It's part of who he is.

They can't get married. He loves her so much and can't marry her. She loves him to fucking _distraction_ and can't marry him either. Not without destroying each-other.

Xanna bursts into tears and lunges into Pantera's arms, hugging him desperately. "It's not fair!" she wails into his apron. She feels his heart stutter for a moment before he hugs her back, head dropping to rest against hers and tears falling in her hair as he cries with her.

It hurts so much. If neither of them had committed cheerfully and whole-heartedly to prior responsibilities they could maybe have made it work, but Pantera won't force her to choose between Xanxus and the Superbi and she can't do that to him either, can't leave him here as stay-at-home husband she only sees at weekends because she lives and works at the Varia or in the Iron Fort. That's a terrible way to treat a spouse.

The timer rings; Pantera shuffles them closer to the stove so he can stir the vegetables in the frying pan. Xanna is still crying; it's just too much. It's not fair. Why can't they be happy together? She knows the logical reasons why but it still isn't fair! It hurts! She loves him so much and wanted very much to marry him but it was never real! It was never going to be real! It hurts!

Pantera resets the timer, moves them to a chair and pulls her into his lap, kissing her face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he mutters in between kisses. Xanna slaps his arm.

"Dumbass," she gasps. "Not your fault. Just hurts."

The look on his face goes right to her heart. "Yes," he agrees, then crumples forward, buries his face in her shoulder and wails, shaking. Xanna hugs him as tight as she can and sobs into the back of his neck. Oh, it hurts so _much_ …

The timer rings again and Xanna can smell the sausages now, so they're probably cooked. Pantera's in no fit state, so Xanna gets to her feet, pushes him down when he tries to get up, kisses him and takes the apron off him. Then she turns off the heat under the frying pan, drains the other vegetables, removes the tray from the oven and turns the oven off. That done, she leaves the crumpled apron on the worktop and goes back to cuddling Pantera. Her now-ex boyfriend.

Ow.

"Hungry?" she asks when they've both slid from tears into shakes and whimpers.

"Not really," he tells her hoarsely.

"Should probably eat anyway," she says.

"Probably."

Neither of them moves.

"I'm getting up now," Xanna mutters to herself, getting to her feet, "and I can't face plates so the frying pan will do." She tips the sausages into the pan with the cooked peppers and aubergines, carries it over to the table and sets it down heavily. Then she fetches knives and forks, turns Pantera's chair around so it faces the tepid food and moves the other chair over so she's squashed up next to him. It's food, it isn't poisoned, she lives a highly active lifestyle and cannot afford to miss meals.

It's more of a chore than likëngë should ever be but she manages to eat a third of them. Considering she has eaten more than twice that much in as single sitting before now, that is pathetic. The peppers are nice. She doesn't eat much of them either.

Pantera eats mechanically and even less than her. Neither of them cares enough to rescue the rest of the vegetables.

"Do you still have that Addams Family film and its much better sequel?" Xanna asks after both of them have stared at the remains of the meal for some time.

"Yeah."

"Let's get drinks and watch them."

"Okay." Pantera kisses her then levers himself to his feet and shuffles towards the sitting room, moving like an old man. Xanna finds a jug, fills it with water, grabs a few juice cartons for good measure and carries them through; there are glasses in the sitting room already.

It turns out Pantera interpreted 'drinks' as alcohol, which right now Xanna is not opposed to. They can mourn their dead relationship with it. The video is currently running through trailers so she ignores it in favour of her juice, followed by the glasses of absinthe Pantera has poured using the water she brought.

Then the movie starts and she snuggles up against her friend –because he is still her friend and that will never change– to watch.

* * *

Who's shaking her? It's not morning yet. Xanna groans and tries to push them away.

"Xanna." Oh, it's Xan. She squints at him.

"Not morning," she complains.

"You didn't call," he tells her. Why would she call? Oh yes, she's with Pantera. Who isn't her boyfriend now.

Xanna starts crying again.

"Xanna? What's wrong?" Xan asks quietly, carefully joining her on the couch and wrapping his arms around her.

Xanna sniffs and tries for coherency. It keeps eluding her. She must be drunk. Well, the absinthe bottle is empty now so they probably drank it all. There's a half-empty bottle of limoncello by the table too; where did that come from?

"Xanna?" Oh. Right. Yes.

"We can't be married," she tells her Sky miserably. "We want different family things." Her bottom lip wobbles. "I wanted to marry him so much and I can't because it would be mean. It's not _fair_ , Xan."

Xan squeezes her gently. "What different things?" He asks.

Xanna flaps a hand at him. "You know! 'Tera puts the Superbi first and I put you first, 'cause I'm your Gar, Guardian. An' we both want to, so it's not fair to make the other one stop." She sniffs. "Hurts, Xan." She shivers. "An' cold." Why is it cold?

"Come home to bed, Xanna," Xan says gently, kissing her forehead.

"What 'bout 'Tera?" She can't leave 'Tera by himself, it's not fair.

Xan huffs into her hair. "I can bring him."

That's okay then; Xanna stumbles to her feet and sways, grabbing onto Xan. "I'm drunk," she announces.

"I know you are," Xan tells her, smirking as he sets her properly on her own feet so he can wrap 'Tera up in a blanket and carry him.

"Should we leave a note?" Xanna ponders. "Since we're borrowing 'Tera."

"Get your boots and coat on and I'll write a note after I've put him in the car," Xan promises her, glancing back over his shoulder with 'Tera in his arms all bundled up like a dumpling.

"Kay." Xan always keeps his promises. "Love you, Xan."

Xan smiles. "Love you too, pixie."

* * *

"VOOO– uph!" Eyes still closed, Xanna bares her teeth victoriously at the sound of the noisy asshole getting knocked backwards out of the room by her well-aimed Flame bludgeon. Should have known better than to break into her room like that; ouch, her head hurts. This must be the hangover.

Two displeased male groans resound in her ears, one from whoever is flopped across her back and the other from who she is sprawled partway across. She knows who they are, but can't tell which is which. Because her eyes are closed, her head aches and Flame-traces and scents are all muddled up right now.

"Bugger off, trash," growls Xanxus and oh, so he's the one crushing her into the mattress. That means the chest she's drooling on and the arm in her hair must belong to Pantera.

Who is not her boyfriend.

"The hell is this, Boss?!" Squalo demands from the doorway to the office and ow, he's still too damn loud.

Xanna opens her eyes a crack, just enough to see Pantera lift a hand to his eyes and press fingers into his eye-sockets. "We were sleeping, Squalo," her ex says with threateningly affable mildness.

"You shitty cat, the DEVIL–" Xanna throws an actually sharp blade at him this time. "SHIT!" Followed by another three more for good measure. "I'm going, I'm going!" The door slams. The damage to the walls can be fixed later.

"Did you just throw Flame-constructs _through_ your Sky?" Pantera asks curiously.

"Sky attribute is Harmony; means I only damage him when I want to," Xanna says succinctly. It's the most obvious application really and very handy in a melee. Which some Varia in-house fights have turned into before now.

Xanxus chuckles in her ear. "Think you're the first to think of that, pixie."

"But it's obvious."

"Clearly not," Pantera replies, rolling his shoulders and trying to free the arm tangled in her hair. Since Xanxus is also lying on that arm –has to be considering how squished up they are– he fails. "How did we get here?"

"Didn't call," Xanna tells him. "Xanxus came to see why." At least she thinks that's what happened.

"And decided to abduct me?" Pantera doesn't sound angry, just bemused.

"Pixie asked." She had? When had that… ouch, her head.

"I have a hangover," Xanna decides, "and I need a drink. Of water or something."

"Not hair of the dog?" her Sky asks, amusement pervading his tone and his breath hot against her neck.

"No. Get off." She lets go of Pantera and tries to elbow the sniggering asshole behind her somewhere painful.

"Don't want to," the aforementioned asshole says smugly, grabbing her wrist and draping both their arms back across her boyfriend's –ex-boyfriend's– chest. Xanna tries to elbow him with her other arm and manages to catch him square in the ribs, surprising a whoosh of air out of him that makes her neck tingle.

"Xanxus, stop being mean," she grumbles as he manages to trap that arm too.

"Promise to stay in bed and I'll fetch you drinks."

Xanna twists her head around to make very sceptical eye-contact. "Non-alcoholic drinks I actually like?"

"Hmm," her Sky agrees, eyes bright and soft. "You and the cat both." He's up to no good, she can tell. Does she care?

"Deal," Pantera mutters, his free arm now sprawled across his face to block out the light.

No, she doesn't care. "Fine then."

Xanxus lets go of her wrists, levers himself up and kisses her on the lips. "Thanks, pixie." Then he leans over, moves Pantera's arm and kisses him too. "And cat." Then he's gone with a rustle of sheets, a creak and a bounce of the mattress, the door opening and closing again quietly.

"Xanna?"

"Hn?" She closes her eyes again in an attempt to stave off the thumping in her skull.

"Why am I in bed with you and your Sky?"

"Because he showed up to take me home while I was drunk and you were unconscious, and I didn't want to leave you by yourself. I think." Things are fuzzy.

"Why is he so… gleeful about this?" Pantera sounds very wary and she honestly doesn't blame him.

"Xanxus is sixteen," she reminds him, "and currently has two half-dressed people who are his type in bed with him, who are no longer in an official relationship with each-other." Xanxus hasn't had to deal with any of her relationship aftermath for years now, so his attitude to it having changed is not surprising. Hopefully he'll not be too pushy; this has been the roughest breakup yet and her heart hurts. Her head does too.

The Superbi Heir chuckles dryly. "Suddenly everything makes sense."

"If he's too pushy, tell him so," Xanna adds, rolling onto her back and stretching. "He's a pain but he cares."

"What is his type?" Pantera asks after a comfortable pause.

Xanna smiles. "Self-aware, brilliant, deadly; nice to look at doesn't hurt either, but he's not that picky there." It's people her Sky is attracted to, although he's not blind to aesthetics. Aesthetics aren't enough in themselves for him to take an interest though. Pretty or sexy is not enough for any sustained relationship, but it's a nice bonus if you can get it.

"Should I be worried about Squalo?"

Xanna has not made that connection in this context before. "Define 'worry'; I don't think Squalo is even interested yet and Xanxus is very emphatically not interested in the unwilling." Xanxus has Views about rape and they all involve incinerating the perpetrator immediately without bothering to listen to their side of things; that the Varia really like his attitude there is a can of worms Xanna is trying not to delve into.

"Reassure me."

"My Sky is familiar with the statutory rape laws and agrees with them completely," Xanna says bluntly. "Even if Squalo was stripping naked and throwing himself at Xanxus, nothing would happen until Squalo was sixteen." A Sky is a person in a position of trust and authority, just like a Guardian is, which means there are standards to be upheld.

Pantera laughs delightedly, his entire body shaking. "Thank-you for that lovely mental image, sweetheart," he eventually manages to wheeze.

Xanna grins; it is pretty amusing really when the only things Squalo is interested in right now are new fighting styles and complaining about school. He desperately needs another hobby.

The door opens and Xanxus comes back in carrying a tray, Bel dodging past him and jumping onto the bed. "Fairy!"

"Yes?" she asks cautiously. Bel is nine now and has been a bit difficult lately. Well, differently difficult than before.

"Are you getting married?" The Storm Officer demands, poised just out of arm's reach.

Oh, ouch. "No," she manages, feeling her chest ache at the reminder.

"Good," the nine-year-old says firmly, "I don't want you to retire yet; it would be boring without you."

Well that was a ringing endorsement from the spoiled prince that she hadn't been expecting. "I probably am going to end up retiring a bit sooner than usual," Xanna informs him, shuffling herself up into a sitting position, "as Boss crunching my bones means they're probably going to start protesting about the effort of maintaining Quality standards sooner rather than later. But I do want to get my Division up to a comparable level of Quality as the rest of the Varia before I go."

"Why did you let him do that, fairy?" Bel demands irritably. "You know better!"

"Who won the fight, princeling?" Xanna asks teasingly. It's just them, Xanxus and Pantera in the room, none of whom are going to tell.

Bel opens his mouth and hesitates. "He did what you wanted him to," the nine-year-old says thoughtfully, "so you won." He grins toothily. "You beat Boss!"

"Pixie only picks fights she can win," her Sky agrees wryly, planting a knee on the mattress and handing her a tall glass of juice. Xanna sips it gratefully and beside her Pantera leavers himself upright so he can accept a drink of his own.

"I have never been able to match Boss in a physical fight," Xanna says matter-of-factly, "but strength isn't everything and neither is speed."

"War by any other means," the Storm Officer quotes thoughtfully in an undertone. "Not as pretty as violence though."

"We can't all be battle geniuses, highness," she points out dryly.

Bel grins at her. "Smart fairy." He rolls off the bed and lets himself out of the room.

"Marriage really wouldn't have worked, would it," Pantera comments ruefully, voice quiet. "I didn't consider how your fellow Guardians would take it." A soft chuckle. "I'm usually better at thinking through the long-term implications than this."

Xanxus joins them at the head of the bed, sitting on Pantera's other side, taking away his empty drinking glass and forcing him to shuffle up. "Pixie's like the brat's mother." That's a truth she was not expecting.

"What, seriously?" She wasn't trying to be, she is just doing her best to treat him like a capable, rational person without forgetting that he is a child as well as a highly capable killer. Children think differently to adults and have different needs, which nobody else in the Varia really bothers to take into account.

Her Sky smirks. "Only woman whose authority he respects, pixie."

"That's because it's your authority!"

"Still respects you enough not to be a brat about it."

Okay, point there. And why was Pantera laughing again? "Share the joke?" Xanna asks.

Pantera shakes his head. "Rather not, thanks." He turns to Xanxus. "Is she like that with Squalo too?"

"Yes." Her Sky looks inordinately pleased with himself as Pantera shakes with muffled laughter that is not quite hysterical. Xanna finishes her drink, levitates the glass back over to the tray –her head is feeling better already– then punches both the irritating men making fun of her.

"Sorry, sorry," Pantera chuckles a little breathlessly, "I'm not laughing at you." True, mostly.

"What is it about me that made you laugh then?" Xanna demands, sprawling across their legs and pouting. This is… it's fun and distracting and not massively serious. It's nice

"My cousin… his parents aren't really very demonstrative," Pantera says quietly. "Or really involved in his life at all; they have always just let him get on with things." He smiles. "I'm glad he knows you care."

'Just let him get on with things' sounds like neglect to Xanna. Children _need_ attention and affirmation and affection for healthy mental development and while Squalo's not exactly a child anymore, those needs don't go away. Especially not when they were never properly met in the first place.

"He complains all the time," Xanxus shares, smirking, "comes up to the office after school every single day to grumble at her about classes and homework and the horse-brat and wanting to drop out."

Pantera smiles, expression bright and wicked. "And you just let him, don't you Xanna? You let him grumble and whine and fuss and huff and puff, then tell him firmly to do his homework and that you're not letting him drop out."

Pretty much. "How did you guess?" Xanna asks curiously.

Pantera shakes his head. "You did the paperwork for changing tracks too, didn't you?"

"He wanted to do something more practical." Xanna isn't entirely sure why Squalo was in the arts track to begin with; yes he likes music and is knowledgeable enough about literature to probably read for fun –although she's never caught him doing it– but he's not passionate about it like he is with swordsmanship.

Xanxus drags her up into his lap. "Best Guardian," he rumbles, rubbing his face against her ear and neck.

"I thought 'Tera was the cat, not you," Xanna complains, squirming.

"Mine."

"Well obviously, but that doesn't mean you have to scent-mark me."

"Do I get breakfast to go with the show?" Pantera asks dryly. Xanxus stills, then shoves her at her ex-boyfriend abruptly enough that she falls onto him and bashes her jaw on his head.

"Ow, Xanxus! What–" Xanna rolls out of the way, turns around and stares. Nope, this is actually happening. Her asshole Sky is now molesting her ex. Well, doing his inimitable 'you are mine so I am going to snuggle aggressively and there is nothing you can do to stop me' routine; he has done this to Squalo before and the fourteen-year-old struggled and screeched like a wet cat.

"Xanxus, you already have a Superbi," she points out bemusedly as Pantera abruptly stops trying to push her Sky off and starts cuddling back. "He's even a Rain Superbi." Pantera and Squalo do match like that.

"Keeping this one," Xanxus rumbles, sprawling comfortably on top of the Superbi Heir and threading hands through the older man's hair to rub his scalp, "always wanted a cat."

Pantera catches her eye then very deliberately leans up and latches onto her Sky's neck, sucking noisily. Xanna covers her face with one hand; dear God there's two of them. Why is this her life?

Taking her eyes of them was a bad, bad idea; next thing she knows she's sprawled across her Sky's chest and Pantera has shoved up her pyjama shirt and is tracing lines up her spine. "Thought we broke up," she points out as she twists around to look him in the eye.

"We have stopped dating," Pantera says quietly, "because we both want to marry and we can't marry each-other. But I am still very, very attracted to you." He lowers his head to kiss her lower back, not letting up the eye contact for a moment. "Do you still want me?"

Oh shit. It's times like this that she really wishes she was any good at lying. "So you want a threesome with my Sky now?" Xanna asks instead, trying to keep her voice even and very deliberately _not_ looking at Xanxus, whose heartbeat is pounding under her hand.

"I want to kiss you all over," Pantera says evenly. "I want to run my hands across your skin and feel you tremble for me. I want to be distracted from how much I hurt right now." He smiles at her, lazy and predatory. "I don't mind the audience."

"I don't mind watching," her Sky purrs, one hand over hers on his heart and the other one toying with her ruched-up shirt.

This. This is. This is too much.

Pantera's eyes soften. "Xanna," he tells her gently. "Do you have any idea how married you are to Xanxus?"

"What?" It pops out of her mouth before she can really stop it.

The Superbi Heir smiles at her, wide and fond and exasperated. "Xanna, darling, I love you dearly but you are so dense sometimes. You sleep in the same bed, you do wordless communication like an old married couple, you let him into your personal space whenever he wants and I'm sure he's seen you naked a lot more than I have. It's only gotten worse in the past month or so; now you bicker with him as well rather than just sighing and letting him have his way."

Xanna can't find any words. How can this be true? It is? But? She loves 'Tera! She really does!

"So please," Pantera says softly, "stop looking away. You love him. You love me. You trust us. Let him watch me kiss you."

Xanxus shudders under her. "Please, pixie?" he begs softly.

Xanna breathes. "You can both kiss me," she agrees quietly, Xanxus's groan in her ear making her blood fizz in ways she should probably be running away from very quickly, "but afterwards Xan and I are kissing you, 'Tera."

Pantera's eyes shutter. "Oh sweetheart," he purrs, "promise me?"

"Promise," Xanxus rumbles, the hand not gripping her shirt now wrapped around her thigh and holding her flush against his arousal.

"Promise," Xanna agrees, before adding entirely on purpose, "and then we can kiss Xan."

The way her Sky's hips buck under her in response to that does away with the last traces of any reservations or sense she might have had. "Fuck me," Xanxus breathes hoarsely as she turns back to look down into his wide, shocked eyes. "Fuck."

Xanna smiles, suddenly feeling playful. "Not on a first date, Xan."

"Going to be the death of me," her Sky growls, pulling her pyjama shirt off over her head and chucking it to one side. "Can't wait."

Xanna shivers as Pantera settles over their legs and starts kissing up her back, long, strong fingers caressing her ribs and the underside of her breasts. "I've got her to take you seriously, now kiss her," her ex-boyfriend –current what? What is this anyway? Rebound fling? – mutters, nipping at her skin and making her squirm. When and how did they plot this?

Then Xanxus is dragging her head down and kissing her and wow, why was she objecting to this again? She shifts her weight, grinding slowly against his groin and greedily swallowing his gasps and growls as wet, biting kisses cover her back.

Pantera's fingers slide down inside her underwear and she's gasping too, trembling as she's pinned between them and there are teeth and tongue teasing her earlobe and hickies being sucked on her neck on both sides. Then Pantera is rolling her off Xanxus onto her back and pressing open-mouthed kisses to her breasts, her Sky joining in only seconds later.

She is going to be, she realises in one final moment of clarity, so wrecked after this. Her entire life is going to be in pieces.

She does not care.

* * *

Xanna gets into the shower first; Pantera's heart condition forces him to be very cautious about extended exertion –he passes out otherwise– so he's still sprawled across the sheets and breathing deeply when she heads into the bathroom. Xanxus is even more out of it, having been the focus of hers and 'Tera's attentions for the past however-long and looks unlikely to surface for a while yet.

The sheets are a mess. The inside of Xanna's head is even more of a mess, which is part of why she's stumbling off for that shower.

Standing under the hot water, she tries to string a coherent line of thought together. Having eaten actual food would help there, but she hasn't so she has to make do.

Okay. What do.

She needs a break. Not a break-break, but a pause between the failed –ended for good reasons– romantic relationship with Pantera and a different kind of relationship with Xanxus. Because yes, she does love her Sky very much and is attracted to him, but starting something with him while her heart is still pining after Pantera is just asking for drama and mess. She needs to heal. Right now she feels really good, but that's not going to last and thinking about how she and Pantera _doesn't work_ makes her stomach twinge uncomfortably. Because they could have worked, but that's a line of thinking she really needs to stay away from. As marriage could have worked but only at the cost of making the other miserable –or making Xanxus miserable– and that kind of foundation wouldn't have let it work out at all in the long run.

Admitting that she is attracted to Xanxus is going to get her in so much trouble though, because now she's noticed that she's not going to be able to un-notice it.

Xanna reaches for the shampoo, partly because her hair does need washing but also to prolong her shower session. Standing under running water is a restful thinking space. Conditioner follows.

She needs to talk. Talk to Xanxus and explain that she needs time to get over things falling apart with 'Tera, but that she is not going to run for the hills after getting ambushed like this. She is okay with continuing more or less as normal, but with actual going out together just for fun and some kissing. Mouth kissing, not what they did earlier; that's going to take longer to be comfortable with. This was mostly a last thing with Pantera, to finish off their relationship on a high note, which included her Sky because 'Tera wanted to and she couldn't think of a reason why not.

She's not going to stop spending time with Pantera just because they're not dating anymore either; he's still her friend and she isn't going to stop loving him just because they can't get married. Xanxus likes him, so that shouldn't be too hard; they can all hang out together and bring 'Cesco along too. Francesco's father has a relapse eight months after finishing chemotherapy and finally died in November, so 'Cesco is Don Cavallone now and buried in work, but taking time off is important for mental health and working ridiculously long hours is not actually more productive. Especially not while grieving; she needs to go and drag him out of his office now she's physically fit enough to do so.

Okay, she's all washed and she's stood in the shower for long enough; time to face the music. Oh, and she should get some more towels out the airing cupboard so Pantera has something to dry off with. What did Xanxus do with 'Tera's clothes last night anyway? He was wearing a pair of her pyjama trousers when they woke up; the trousers that went with the shirt she was wearing, because Xanxus is like that.

If Pantera's clothes went into the laundry system then he's not getting them back for two days, minimum. More likely four. Which is probably what has happened and something Xanxus will have done on purpose. Xanna huffs; his sense of humour is terrible, seriously.

Then again he's got _really_ good at reading people lately, so this might be him 'tricking' Pantera into staying so he doesn't go home and mope. Which Pantera will see through, appreciate and go along with. Huh. Well, it's quiet so a few days of lounging around together isn't going to hurt anybody, so long as she and Xanxus make sure Pantera doesn't get 'playfully' poisoned by bored Varia. That would be counter-productive.

* * *

Walking out of the bathroom, Xanna automatically sidesteps Pantera so he doesn't walk right into her, glances after him as he locks the bathroom door behind him and shrugs. It's not like any lock is more than a polite request for privacy to a Varia assassin; locking the bathroom door is a habit for regular people, but when you spend half your life sharing hotel rooms with a Squad and the other half having a private en-suite then it very soon stops being a habit. Xanxus locks the bathroom door less than half the time these days and never when he's taking a shower or a bath. Xanna, not taking missions, is a bit more consistent about it but having –well sharing– a bathroom that is actually genuinely private means she's recently lost the habit of locking the door on principle as well.

Xanxus is looking a bit more conscious now but he's not moved much. Xanna leaves him to surface in his own time and starts getting dressed; she can dry her hair properly once she's got some clothes on.

The mirror shows her more hickies than she'd noticed in the shower; they go right up to her jaw. Right around the back too. Well, at least it's jumper weather and she usually wears roll-necks when it's cold anyway. That's going to hide most of them.

The hair-dryer probably brings her Sky back to reality with a bump, but Lightning Flames really do not work well for heating things or getting rid of moisture due to the persistent electrical qualities. On the other hand she can recharge batteries between her fingers, so it's just a matter of priorities.

Her hair hangs to mid-back these days; she usually wears it up in a bun or a clip but neither of those let her wear a warm hat so today she braids it. Yes a hanging braid is definitely a liability when surrounded by assassins, but braids can then be pinned to her head and lie flat enough to fit under a woolly hat when heading outdoors.

The background sound of water in the pipes stopped a while back, but Pantera hasn't emerged yet. Xanna ties off the second braid, checks they're reasonably symmetrical and starts pinning them to her head. On the bed behind her Xanxus has curled around on his side and is watching her lazily, skin smeared and sticky.

Her hair finished Xanna decides to forgo makeup and turns around to face her Sky directly. "You coherent enough for conversation yet?"

Xanxus smirks lazily at her. "Maybe." Seeing him like this is making her insides wobble, because she is half of why he's sprawled across the messy sheets surrounded by discarded clothing with his hair sticking up every-which-way, hickies peppering his neck and chest, lips swollen from kissing and red teeth-marks trailing across his shoulders and scattered along his stomach and thighs.

The other half of why her Sky is blatantly basking in afterglow is still hogging the bathroom. A shower does not take forty minutes, especially not when the water's been off for fifteen of them. Did Pantera run a bath?

"This was fun," Xanna starts with, because it's true.

"Really fun," Xanxus agrees languidly. "But?"

"But breaking up with Pantera still hurts," Xanna continues. "I can't do this with you while I'm still thinking about somebody else and feeling wistful over what's lost. I need time to heal or I'm going to make a mess of it."

"Fair," her Sky agrees with a sigh. "Rebounds are messy. Don't want to be that for you."

"I don't want you to be a rebound for me either," Xanna agrees ruefully. She's only had one 'rebound boyfriend' before and damn was that ever a disaster; only boyfriend Xanxus ever set on fire. Taking breaks is much smarter. "I'm going to need hugs though, like you do after a bad breakup."

"Can do hugs," Xanxus drawls, eyes warm. "Can do kisses too."

Xanna can't help the sudden blush and glares at him for flustering her; he is of course completely unrepentant. "I don't mind a little bit more kissing," she admits, "but don't push me, please? It aches." It really does hurt now the endorphins are fading a little.

"Sorry," her Sky says regretfully, crawling down the bed and grabbing her hand, thumb playing across her knuckles. "Can see. Can wait." He grins at her. "Thought I'd have to wait longer than this."

How long has her Sky been–? No. She does not want to know. Her stomach grumbles.

"I'm getting some lunch," she decides, tugging her hand free and getting to her feet. "Anything specific?"

"Steak," her Sky decides somewhat predictably, flopping onto his back and watching her upside-down. "Cat still hogging the bathroom?"

"I think he's in the bathtub," Xanna replies, "so you could probably break in for a shower if you wanted." Which reminds her, "take some extra towels through. Oh, and what happened to his clothes?"

"Laundry," Xanxus purrs mischievously.

"Well at least there's plenty for him to borrow in your wardrobe," Xanna mutters, not surprised that her guess was accurate. "See you in a bit."

"Kiss?" her Sky asks, pouting.

Xanna bends over him sideways and plants a wet kiss over that protruding lower lip, nibbling lightly before pulling away again. "See you when you're dressed," she tells him lightly, turning towards the door.

"No promises, pixie," floats across the room before she can close the door behind her.

* * *

If looks could kill, she and Pantera would both be bleeding out and Xanxus would be a scarlet smear on his chair. Squalo however is not a Mist so he is just standing in the office with a muscle jumping in his cheek, breathing jerkily. Her Sky has his feet on his cleared desk and is eating his steak –Xanna cheated and ordered steak for everybody to give the kitchens three tries at getting it perfect– while she sits on the couch and eats her own, in between cutting up bits of steak to feed to Pantera, who is flopped along the couch with his head in her lap and refusing to exert an iota of effort than he can get away with avoiding. It turns out he can avoid a lot of effort, including having to feed himself. She is a soft touch today.

It probably isn't helping Squalo's mood that Pantera is very obviously wearing some of Xanxus's casual clothes, including a dark pink, black and white Scandinavian patterned jumper that was a Christmas gag gift from Francesco and a pair of pink polka-dot slipper socks.

"Hey, Boss," Squalo snarls through gritted teeth, "the hell is this?!"

Xanxus completely ignores his Rain Officer's outburst, focusing on his food. Now he's no longer being compelled to make mealtime small-talk by Don Vongola, her Sky doesn't say a word during meals unless it's to ask somebody to pass him something. Xanna doesn't mind, but other people apparently find it frustrating.

"Hey, Sprite! Was this your idea?" Squalo demands accusingly, turning to face the couch.

"Was what my idea, Squalo?" she asks, feeding Pantera another morsel of steak.

"This, you!" the fourteen-year-old complains, hands waving wildly. "The hell was my cousin doing in Boss's bed?!"

"That's my bed too," Xanna points out mildly.

"Fine! It's your bed! Why was Pantera in it?!"

"We both got drunk last night and Boss brought us back here," Xanna says, tone still mild. Further specifics are not Squalo's business.

Squalo, now red in the face with fury and frustration, turns on Xanxus again. "YOU!"

A mostly-empty wine bottle hits the younger teenager in the head, shattering and spilling all over his hair.

"BOSS YOU SHIT!"

Xanna glances at her Sky –who hasn't even looked up from his meal– then at the scattered glass now surrounding Squalo. Bottles do not break like that when you hit people with them; they either stay intact or break into a few large pointy shards and lots of teeny-tiny splinters. Those regular cuboids look like broken safety glass, easily swept away and unlikely to catch in anything or stab an eye out.

That was definitely done on purpose.

"Squalo," Xanna interrupts before the teenager can shout any louder, "Xanxus brought us both back here because we were drunk and Pantera needs supervision when he's sleeping off alcohol." Due to his heart condition, which Squalo knows about because his cousin is one of the relatives he actually likes. "The sex was a morning thing and entirely Pantera's idea."

Squalo looks completely betrayed. "What?" he demands, shaking glass out of his hair.

"Your cousin woke up this morning and decided he wanted a threesome with Xanxus," Xanna tells him bluntly, "hence the hickies." Some of which are very visible since Pantera's jumper is a round-neck and Xanxus is wearing a rather fancy merino v-neck under his open Varia jacket.

The fourteen-year-old goes almost purple with embarrassment. "I know you all had sex!" he blurts out. "Just, why?"

"What, 'he's hot' isn't reason enough?" Pantera drawls.

"Not when it's Boss and you're dating Sprite!" Squalo retorts, his colour fading to strong pink.

"We're not dating anymore," Xanna replies when it's clear that Pantera isn't going to, gently rubbing her ex-boyfriend's shoulder as she does so.

Squalo stills. "You broke it off? Why?" He demands, baffled. "You're nuts about each-other."

"We have very different priorities in life and neither of us would be happy abandoning our current career for the other," Xanna says succinctly.

"Because the cat's my family's Heir and you're Boss's Guardian?" Squalo still looks confused. "But it's been working just fine so far!"

Xanna sighs. "Pantera needs to marry and have heirs, Squalo," she says flatly, "and I am never going to put the Superbi ahead of Xanxus."

Squalo catches on. "Well, shit," he offers, subsiding. "That sucks." Wine is still dripping from his hair and trailing down his jacket to join the puddle already on the floor, but his skin has faded almost all the way back to its usual pale.

"Clear up the mess, shark," Xanxus orders casually.

"Go fuck yourself, shitty Boss," Squalo mutters not at all quietly, flicking another shower of wine droplets from his hair and stomping off out of the door.

"Is this normal?" Pantera asks idly.

"Xanxus does enjoy winding Squalo up," Xanna replies, cutting up more steak. "I think if Squalo reacted less explosively Xanxus would do it less often." She's never seen him throw a wine bottle before but it could easily have happened several times while she was convalescing in Medical; Squalo didn't seem at all surprised by it.

The door opens again, revealing a nervous pair of mooks with mop, dustpan and brush. Xanna waves at the mess on the floor and leaves them to it, focusing on her food. Steak loses its charm when it goes cold.

After lunch Xanxus joins them on the couch for snuggling and a nap; Xanna's glad she insisted on getting a really big and comfortable sofa for the office, otherwise this kind of thing wouldn't be possible. Sprawled on top of her Sky with her face pressed into his neck on one side and Pantera on top of her nuzzling Xanxus's other ear, their discarded jumpers and jackets draped over the top, they all settle in and Xanna dozes.

Waking up to Xanxus giving Pantera a neck and scalp massage is a bit unexpected, but not actually as surprising as it might have been. Pantera is loose-limbed and purring blissfully, which is probably why Xanxus is still at it; that is a very fun reaction to coax out of the Superbi Heir, especially since human beings are not supposed to be capable of making that noise. Xanna suspects a Mist-prank there; getting purred on is however incredibly relaxing and she drifts off again.

When she wakes up a second time they're making out, kisses slow and leisurely. Seeing as she's still trapped between them she can tell it's not particularly sexual; Pantera is a very sensual person and Xanxus is not so different there. Her Sky however doesn't usually consider this kind of kissing to fit into the 'sensual' category. That she is aware of anyway.

The soft sounds of kissing and the feel of them breathing in time is oddly soothing.

The third time Xanna wakes up she needs to use the toilet and both the men are dead to the world, Xanxus with his head leaning back on the arm of the couch and his mouth open and Pantera nuzzling at her ear, purring in his sleep. Extracting herself is not massively difficult and they snuggle up just fine together in her absence, so after her trip to the bathroom Xanna changes into training gear, leaves a note and heads downstairs.

She barely makes it to the end of the hall before being set upon by excited gossipy assassins, but that's life.

* * *

Pantera stays until the end of the week; four days of cuddling together in bed, sprawling on the office couch and of her and Xanxus chasing each-other around training rooms while Pantera watches and occasionally participates as a hostage, target or bystander. Which is fun and surprising because Pantera is not just a static body; he participates fully if only for short intervals and is far from helpless. Nobody who can put Xanxus on his back qualifies as helpless, even though that incident left her feeling like a voyeur. Xanna basks in the companionship and comfort being offered, comforting in return and working through the pain at her own speed.

She also starts conversations about fun things they've done together, because she and 'Tera have had a _fantastic_ time and she refuses to let all those things be consigned to oblivion just because they can't marry each-other.

Unfortunately it's not just the Varia rumour mill that's exploded; by the time Pantera goes home the entire Vongola Alliance knows that he's spent four days at the Varia, in bed with the Tenth and his Lightning Guardian. Those rumours are more annoying.

It doesn't get out until a while later than she and the Superbi Heir aren't actually dating anymore and then the rumours get even worse. Xanna makes a point of ignoring them and leans on Xanxus to give her permission to read up in the Archives on the various Mafia Families outside the Alliance that the Vongola has done business with. It's a lot of elliptical language and involves a decent quantity of cross-division research, but it's engrossing and interesting and she does need the background.

Then she finds something… odd.

Actually no, it's not odd: it's depressingly human, criminally short-sighted and terrifyingly naïve. Xanna politely consults the people named in the documents to fish for more information, does not let her feelings show on her face as they answer her questions and direct her to other details, then hunts her Sky down.

Xanxus is in a meeting with a number of familiar faces; the Heads of Personnel, Financial and Housekeeping, the latter of whom manages a large number of rental properties as well as staffing the Iron Fort and other Vongola residences. Her Sky knows as soon as he sees her that something serious is wrong, thanks the other Heads for their time and asks them to send him summaries of the material not yet discussed so he can get back to them on it.

Nobody argues; he's the Tenth and the Head of the Varia and she's one of his most trusted interrupting a meeting.

"Report," her Sky demands once the room has emptied.

"Back in eighty-eight the Estraneo Family made public a modification on Flame Bullets called the Possession Bullet," Xanna says briskly, laying out the documentation on the conference table. "Don Vongola condemned them as 'inhumane', the rest of the mafia followed suit –probably out of fear since possession is one of the really scary Mist-tricks– destroyed the research and ceased all trading and contact with the Estraneo. Various local Families then persecuted them, killing every Family member they could find. Going by the reports," –from the CEDEF– "over three-quarters of the Family's original active membership was dead by nineteen-ninety," Xanna snarls, "and nobody's heard a peep out of them since."

"What about wives? Kids?" Xanxus asks, frowning at the numbers.

"Nobody knows; so far as the Underworld in concerned the Estraneo are over four years dead," Xanna says grimly, " and their territory's long since been taken over by various other Families. But they were scientists. What are a bunch of scientists specialising in exotic Flame weaponry going to do when the whole world turns against them and they have to hide themselves so deeply not even the Underworld can find them?"

"Build a better weapon," Xanxus replies flatly, looking up at her. "Shit."

He scoops up the documents and leaves the room at a brisk walk; Xanna falls in behind him. This is probably going to end up being a Varia mission –they are looking for 'dead' people after all and that's definitely impossible– and she is probably going to end up running it, or at least the early phase. Depending on what the Estraneo have been up to since dropping off the grid, Xanxus may decide to finish what others started.

* * *

It's actually Pýř who is sent off on the wild goose chase; Xanxus wants her to keep going through the Archives looking for 'dumb shit'. So Pýř is ordered to pick out up to twenty people to take north with him, given copies of all the historical Estraneo data the Vongola has and told to check in after a month. The Cloud Officer instantly picks the Varia's only other Squad of two, a few intelligencers, two medical specialists, three sniper pairs and a heavy assault Squad, terrifies them all into line and departs; with his own partner as well, of course. Xanna then puts the matter out of her mind and goes back to her paperwork.

Of course with the Cloud Officer out of the building on a long mission she has to do some of his paperwork too, so between that, Varia missions picking up and her work in the Archives, she's kept busy. Not that paperwork is an excuse to let her fitness slip; Quality is physical as much as it is mental and being an Officer means being held to an even higher standard than the average assassin. It's very challenging to keep herself in peak shape –being a woman does not help there– but in the short-term Xanna can do it and her Varia career is very definitely short-term. As in, she is very unlikely to still be Varia in six years time.

Six years are less time than they appear to be, but they should be enough for Xanna to find a range of capable, un-traumatised Lightnings to set a standard and pick her eventual replacement from. She has plans there; she'll need to get Xanxus to help –she isn't anywhere near sensitive enough to pick up on Latent Flames but he is– but between them they can probably get some decently accomplished Lightnings out of the Academy. It isn't like a Varia career prevents a person from moving on into another field after retiring, especially with how young Quality assassins have to retire.

Xanna knows it is her memories of being older that make her think of thirty as 'young' rather than 'ancient'; everybody in the Varia thinks of thirty as 'old and creaky'. Considering most of her fellow Officers are younger than her –if you include Mammon who is physically two if mentally adult– she is yet to even indicate she feels differently about ages and aging to them. Even Pýř, who is probably physically older than her, thinks of thirty as 'old'.

She remembers being twenty-nine and it honestly didn't feel any different to how being nineteen does. She is still herself. The only difference she remembers is not being able to eat whatever, whenever, because her metabolism had slowed down a bit. Even that may not happen in the same way, considering that she's living a much more active lifestyle now.

There's a spike of roiling and familiar Storm Flames down the corridor of the intersection she's walking past; the area clears like magic as assassins vanish into adjacent rooms or outright turn around and hurry the other way. Considering that's Belphegor, it's a smart move. What has–

"Fairy!" It's a furious scream; Xanna catches the thrown knives with her own conjured Flame-blades, tossing them to the side so she won't get tangled in the attached wires, quickly Hardens her skin and soft tissues –he's still coming at her– and catches the screaming, spitting, flailing nine-year-old as he collides with her. His Flames are still spiking all over the place, fury mingling with terror and loathing. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" he screams, knives tearing gouges in her training shirt over her kidneys and across her lower ribs but barely scoring her skin.

This is not a normal temper tantrum. Xanna lets her flame-blades dissolve, wedges her hands under Bel's armpits and lifts him into her body, wincing as he screams in her ear and tries to slash at her arms, neck and shoulders. Wrapping an arm across his shoulders and the other under his behind –he is kicking too, of course he is– she turns around and heads back upstairs; training will have to wait.

The kicking, head-butting, slashing and screaming continues all the way up two flights of stairs –all mysteriously deserted– and all the way to the suite, where she walks through the office –empty as Xanxus is doing Heir stuff with Vongola Medical today and has taken Lussuria with him– and into her private sitting room. There she sits at one end of the fainting couch and shifts the hand on Bel's shoulder-blade up to cradle the back of his skull.

The way he suddenly goes still is not reassuring. "Belphegor, we are in private," she tells him clearly, instantly moving her hand away. Not once on the way up here did he try to squirm out of her grip; if he had she would have put him down. He wants her to be holding him. "Please talk to me."

"I hate you!" It's more of a sob than a scream this time.

"That's allowed."

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate," Bel hiccups, fingers twisting in the remains of her ruined workout shirt. Xanna rubs his back gently. The nine-year-old plants his face in the curve of her shoulder and screams again, ragged and desperate as his shoulders sag.

Xanna wraps both arms around him a little more securely and goes on rubbing his back as her shirt develops a wet patch right under his face and the screams mingle with sobs and wails as he shakes. His knives fall carelessly down the side of the seat cushion and to the floor as he wraps his arms around her ribs and alternates between clinging and hammering his fists against her back.

"Hate you," he whines as he finally winds down, his breathing jerky and his fingers hooked into the back of her sports bra. Her shirt is thoroughly dismembered, the tattered main body concertinaed around her stomach and the remains of the sleeves hanging off her forearms, leaving the collar high and dry around her neck.

Xanna pulls one of the sleeves off her arm and uses the ragged edge to wipe away the tears from under Bel's fringe. "Feel better?"

Bel pouts. "No." It's a lie, they both know it is, but Xanna does not call him out on it. He's letting her hug him and is definitely still very shaken.

"Want to tell me why?"

The Storm Officer's lower lip wobbles again. "Tyrant killed me," he snuffles, shivering.

Xanna rips the ruined sleeve open so Bel can blow his nose properly, trying to catalogue this particular truth. The Storm Officer is very clearly not dead, after all. A temporary death, like doctors can do for heart transplants? That is well within Tyrant's abilities.

"Why did he kill you?" she asks instead. Tyrant is Head of Varia Housekeeping, which runs under a completely different set of Rules to the ones the Varia uses, and Bel is Varia so there are a very limited number of things that Tyrant can punish him for. Most of them relate to his ongoing education.

Bel does not immediately answer, giving her the impression that he had in some way earned his brief demise.

"Did you provoke him?" she tries again.

Bel snuffles and pouts, rubbing his nose with his knuckles. "Peasant," he mutters defensively. That's a yes then. Xanna sets the snotty sleeve aside and hugs him gently.

"Everybody has limits it is unwise to push them past, Belphegor. You're a brilliant young man, you know this. Pushing people because you can or you think the way they react is funny is foolish and unbecoming for a royal; you know better and are supposed to be setting an example." It's not how she would usually phrase things but Bel doesn't care about kindness. "Respect people's boundaries or else why would they ever respect yours?"

"I am a prince!" It's indignant but wobbly.

"This is a general life thing and you are a living being," Xanna says firmly. "Animals have limits and boundaries too; being a prince won't save you if the dog you're kicking decides to bite back and it won't stop you from getting stung by a swarm of wasps after smashing their nest; it definitely won't keep a bunch of nettles from stinging you if you grab them either."

"Hmph." It's a grumpy noise but he's snuggling closer into her body now and relaxing a little. "Hug me, fairy," he demands, wrapping his arms loosely around her back in a tentative hug of his own.

Xanna complies, cuddling him tighter. She doesn't ask him if he still hates her; her decision to put Tyrant in charge of his education has caused him terror and pain and he is unlikely to stop hating her for that any time soon. He still wants a hug though, so clearly he doesn't _just_ hate her.

She is going to have to ask Tyrant what happened exactly. Even though she probably isn't going to change who is in charge of Bel's education no matter how disproportionate the punishment was for the crime; the Storm Officer is severely lacking in both sympathy and empathy and needs to have respect for other people instilled into him somehow. Considering Bel's casual disregard for the rest of humanity, there aren't many options to choose from.

"You owe me lots of hugs for being mean to royalty," Bel says, voice muffled slightly against her shoulder, "so there." It's another feeble lie but children need hugs and Bel certainly isn't getting them from anywhere else, so Xanna is perfectly happy to comply with this particular demand.

"As you say, princeling."

"Good fairy."

* * *

Xanna is curled up on the couch with a hot water bottle cuddled against her abdomen, cocooned in three blankets with her warmest pair of socks on her feet and a mug of mint tea on the edge of the coffee table just within reach, when she remembers Xanxus's months-ago request that she look up his biological father.

"Well, shit."

Squalo doesn't look up, scowling at his statistical analysis homework as though it could be intimidated into submission if he glared hard enough. "What is it, you?"

"Something Xanxus asked me to do back in August," Xanna admits grumpily. Not because she's upset about having to do it, but because right now she's grumpy about everything. Menstruation is intrinsically irritating.

Squalo does glance up now, possibly because she said 'Xanxus' and not 'Boss'; she does make an effort to only use her Sky's Varia Name for official things. "You forgot." It's a profoundly unimpressed deadpan.

"I couldn't start it until September," Xanna grumbles quietly.

Squalo's eyebrows settle back into neutrality; unsaid is that she spent all of September bed-bound and half of it unconscious. Forgetting to do something is minor in comparison. "Think he's forgotten he asked you?" he asks.

It does seem likely. "He hasn't reminded me," Xanna concedes.

"You do it later then," Squalo says, shrugging and dropping his eyes back to his work.

She will. It will make a very nice change from murder requests and old espionage reports, which are what she's been buried in for almost a month now. Pýř's due to report in next week and Xanna has a feeling that he going to be asking for more time; if there were no leads at all to follow he'd have checked in early and brought everybody back by now. The new Cloud Officer is efficient like that.

Or else he might have found the Estraneo and want authorisation for the next step, but Xanna doubts it. The Varia is the _independent_ assassination division and Pýř is an Officer; he can do whatever the hell he likes in the field and Xanxus will sign it off because he trusts the man's judgement. That's the whole point of putting Pýř in charge of this operation in the first place.

* * *

Researching her Sky's biological father turns out to be stupidly easy: she looks up the names and dates copied off the blood-written family tree –which Xanna had already copied out in pen the day Xanxus showed it to her because blood is unhygienic– in Palermo's civic records and hey presto, there he is! Bartolomeo Russo, business manager, born March twenty-ninth nineteen-thirty-eight to Giuseppe Russo and his wife Silvia Lanza, married Maria Caruso –born December fifth nineteen-forty– on May twelfth, nineteen-seventy-five. Three children: Anna Russo, born July twenty-sixth nineteen-seventy-six, Leia Russo –somebody was a Star Wars fan– born January thirtieth nineteen-seventy-eight and Michele Russo, born July nineteenth nineteen-eighty-three.

Bartolomeo was a very naughty boy and visiting prostitutes while his wife was at home struggling with a newborn and a toddler. Not very considerate behaviour at all. Xanxus will be unimpressed; his father was a married man who had two very young daughters at the time he was conceived. Still, three half-siblings; more family is always nice to find.

Xanna photocopies all the official documentation she can find on Bartolomeo Russo, his parents, grandparents and children, then remembers Vongola policy on spouses and does the same for Maria Caruso. Good thing too; it turns out she's related to a certain incredibly popular television actor –her cousin– and her brother is a lawyer. That's going to make the Vongola angle very challenging.

She then notices that Bartolomeo has younger siblings and goes looking for details on them too. There is an aunt; there are two uncles, one of whom is currently serving in Bosnia with the Navy. There are even cousins and the identity card details indicate quite a number of people with red eyes.

By the time the offices close Xanna has well over an inch of photocopies tucked into a folder, several pages of notes on how those photocopies fit together with a rough timeline of events and locations, including current addresses. She can look them up in the phonebook later.

As she drives back to the Varia through the rain she wonders what Xanxus is going to do with this. Will he approach his father and demand a paternity test? Approach his father's wife? His half-siblings? Being probably normal teenagers his half-sisters are still in school, so it's far more likely that Xanxus will avoid them entirely, seeing as he's the heir to a criminal empire and they are oblivious civilians. Unless he wants to surreptitiously check their Flame affinities, just in case there're more Skies over on that side of the family.

She does know something though: Xanxus's father definitely has black hair and red eyes. It says so on his identity card and the resemblance is rather startling, even in a black and white photocopy.

Whatever Xanxus does decide to do, he is probably going to end up burning most of this after reading it. Civilian relatives are liabilities and keeping his actual paternity very quiet is probably a good idea for their sake. Don Vongola seems disinclined to reveal that Xanxus is not actually his by blood so there's no need to rock the boat. Some surreptitious filing in the right part of the Archives and nobody will be any the wiser for a long, long time.

* * *

Xanna arrives to find the Varia mansion roiling like an anthill, the mooks prepping all the largest vehicles outside the garage despite the dark and driving rain and Squalo presiding in one of the ground floor meeting rooms, stacks of paper spreading over the table and being read by Bel and four different members of Information while the Rain Officer discusses something with Tyrant, one of his Rains –Xanna's pretty sure that one is actually in Squalo's Squad– talks on the phone and various other assassins loiter intently.

"Sprite!" Squalo notices her pretty quickly; Xanna wishes she had time to change but emergencies wait for no man and her modest suit is at least Flameproof if not armoured.

"Talk to me," she says calmly. Her calm visibly affects everybody else in the room, causing shoulders to lower and breathing to steady.

Squalo bares his teeth; that's not at all a happy smile. "Pýř called in early," he says shortly. "Estraneo were experimenting on their own kids, so he only waited long enough to make sure they had all the sites locked down before going in and making a clean sweep of the adults. He's packed up everything, this," –a wave at the paper scattered over the table– "is just the surveillance reports on how they found them. Team's headed to Rapallo and Mammon's setting up passage to Bagheria." Which involves charting a course and avoiding ferry routes and coastguards, hence why the Mist Officer isn't in here digging through the data; this is probably going to be expensive and Mammon will be grumbling about the budget later.

"How long?" Xanna asks; it's already six in the evening and there are a lot of mountain roads between the Po valley and the west coast of Italy.

"Called over an hour ago and they were just leaving then," Squalo says promptly, "so should be getting on the boat soon."

It's a twenty-one hour trip from Genoa to Palermo by ferry, but Pýř won't be taking a ferry and the Mists with him will be fiddling matters as much as they can to shorten the trip. "ETA?" She asks.

Squalo looks at the Mists flicking through the reports. "You lot, how fast?"

The left-hand Mist looks up. "Fourteen hours," he says thoughtfully, "probably. Could cut it down to twelve, might drag to sixteen. Depends on the weather they run into."

So eight o'clock tomorrow morning, but possibly as early as six or dragging on to ten.

"They'll be earlier than that," Belphegor says confidently. "The Cloud Officer will push them."

"Reasoning?" Xanna asks.

The nine-year-old smirks, tossing the page he was reading to the table. "They have twenty-three former test subjects under the age of twelve with them and he wants them to be your problem."

That is a very convincing argument; they'll probably get in around four in the morning then, knowing Pýř.

"You," Squalo snaps, pointing to a passing mook, "get Dis Pater." The man vanishes at a run.

"Sending Dark Horse up to Bagheria now?" Xanna asks. It makes perfect sense; the Immortal Squad can settle in at the port, make sure the locals are looking the other way and expedite.

"They can take over once the boat arrives," Squalo says firmly, "and keep order."

"Where's Boss?" Her Sky should be here. Tyrant has vanished, probably to inform Medical and arrange rooms for incoming small children. Xanxus won't want them out from under his immediate oversight until he knows exactly what kind of experimentation they were subject to and its long-term effects.

"Meeting running long," the Rain by the phone says shortly, banging the receiver down with considerable force. "Who the fuck knows where though."

"Take anybody with him?" Xanxus being out of contact for an hour when the Varia have been actively trying to reach him is a hell of a long time.

"Lussuria," Squalo says shortly. Is this related to Medical? Might be generally scientific; Xanxus was talking about visiting the various R&D subdivisions at the weekend and she knows he was looking forward to that.

"Well I really doubt they've run into serious trouble," Xanna sighs, rolling her eyes, "so either Boss got distracted and is playing in R&D somewhere or Don Vongola is being obstructive again." Or both, since the latter would lead to Xanxus deliberately indulging himself with the former. "It's not like we can't do this without him."

Her casual dismissal of the problem significantly relaxes the room's atmosphere. Good.

"So what next, Officers?" the Rain by the phone asks.

"I am going to get changed, have dinner and deal with the regular paperwork, since we need to clear the decks before Pýř gets in," Xanna says easily. "Bel, if you're not in bed by nine thirty I will sedate you and drag you there; none of the interesting data is going to be here until tomorrow morning and I'm not dealing with you grouching because you're sleep-deprived."

"I hate you, fairy," the nine-year-old grumbles sourly.

"Shit, I've got school," Squalo groans, yanking irritably at his fringe. "Damn."

"No, you are clearly on top of this so you stay in charge; Boss and I will take over in the morning," Xanna says firmly; she's going to have to be up and ready to face the music before five and she wants to get some sleep in before then. "Carry on, captain; I'll call you in sick tomorrow."

The almost-fifteen-year-old grins delightedly, both at this affirmation of his competence and authority and at being allowed to skive off school. "Thanks Sprite!"

"You're welcome; I'll see you at half-past four."

* * *

"So you named the shark."

Xanna blinks in the darkness, baffled by the words following the alarm that woke her up far too early and forced her to roll out of bed and fish the loudly peeping annoyance out of the back of the bottom drawer of the dressing table, which is where the clock got shoved so Xanxus can't just throw Flames at it when it wakes him up. "What?" she asks, switching the uplighter in the corner on as dim as possible and getting to her feet.

Xanxus squints back at her. "Squalo. You named him; everybody's calling him 'captain' now."

"I did?" What had she said… oh. "I did." Not on purpose though.

"Good name," her Sky tells her mildly, smirking.

"When did you get in?" Xanna went to bed before ten so as to get six hours sleep.

"Eleven. Shark told me what you said." Xanxus closes his eyes and drapes an arm across them. "Tell me when they make landfall." In other words, he's not getting out of bed until the very last possible moment.

"Yes, Boss," Xanna replies sweetly before heading into the shower. He's had less than five hours sleep but really, somebody needs to hurry up and advance battery and wireless technology to the point that mobile phones become plausible. This kind of communication delay is just awkward.

Maybe she should suggest it?

He's snoring faintly when she comes out of the shower again but there's a pretty little box of the fancy truffles she likes best on the dressing table, reminding her that today is Valentine's Day. Damn. Well there's no way they're going to be doing anything but work, what with Pýř bringing this mess home. Eating one of the truffles, Xanna opens her wardrobe and fishes out a pair of her uniform trousers then looks at the various pretty sparkly things Xanxus has bought for her over the years. What looks unfamiliar… wait.

Opening up the wardrobe doors properly and firking around in the back reveals that yes, as she suspected there _are_ more tutus, each of them three-quarters hidden in dry cleaning bags. One of them is a lovely deep red and fishing it out of its bag reveals a modest neckline and long satin sleeves; this one she is happy to wear today. She'll probably have to wear a long-sleeved vest under it so she doesn't freeze –it's February and this building is not warm, especially not on the ground floor– but a plain white one won't be that noticeable and the tutu bodice is supportive enough that she can forego a bra.

Doing up the hook fastenings is easier than it looks, as they are considerately placed along the left side of her bust rather than up the back, and even in the dim light Xanna can tell the red looks very fine against her black uniform trousers. Quickly brushing her hair and fastening it up in a clip, she then digs through the makeup drawers as quietly as she can until she finds a suitably striking shade of lipstick and a smoky eye-shadow. Plus the usual eye-liner, of course.

Xanxus has done her face with these before, so she knows how to make them look good. Despite her serious lack of practice in applying them. Oh where has that lovely opalescent shimmery powder gone… there it is!

The sparkles along her cheekbones, jaw and up the sides of her forehead look very cheerful in the mirror; she eats another truffle, pulls on her jacket, slips the box into her pocket and heads out to find breakfast. Xanxus is a hard person to find a token Valentine's present for, but this he will definitely appreciate.

First though she has to take over from Squalo, find out what's been decided while she slept and prepare herself for the arrival of almost two-dozen traumatised children. That part is going to be a whole lot of serious effort.

* * *

Xanna has distant memories of being a Sunday school teacher for under-fives before she was de-aged to thirteen and attached herself to Xanxus, so she trusts the instincts that tell her there is no way she can possibly be well-prepared for twenty-three traumatised under-twelves. So she's not making any plans at all and mostly just focusing on the basics: rooms, clothing, medical care, food, security. Mostly the security, as the rest are Housekeeping and Medical's problem.

Security is a nebulous term really. Providing security means ensuring the person it is being provided for feels safe. However it is unlikely that these children, who have all been horribly betrayed by their parents, are going to feel at all safe any time soon. They aren't going to believe her if she tells them they are safe now. So she has to show them they are safe. Has to give them shared rooms so they can all stay together, has to involve them in the paperwork which determines their guardianship and ensure the contracts are binding. Will have to sit with them during medical examinations and make sure they know they can stop at any time. Will have to talk frankly about the data Pýř is bringing back with him and what the Varia is going to use it for. Because that data will be used, even if just as a record of what was done to them in case of complications later.

The Varia is not a family, but Xanxus is Tenth and Vongola Bosses have adopted before now, so there's plenty of precedence. Adopting an entire Mafia family is a bit unusual, but to keep the kids together they need to do it that way. Need to give all the kids the same surname so Vongola Law prevents anybody from splitting them up and so they can either integrate in the wider Vongola or carve out a separate territory of their own once they're old enough.

She's going to be keeping them in Varia Headquarters for the time being though, because she definitely doesn't trust anybody else with these kids and her Sky won't either. They are children not assets or weapons or investments and that is something the Ninth in particular struggles with. He never saw her as a child.

Actually, she might trust Francesco with them. He's a good guy and the Cavallone are very person-orientated. However with Francesco the issue is whether he has people who are up to the task of caring for two dozen traumatised children, which he may not. The Superbi likely have some people somewhere who have the training and inclination to deal with traumatised children, but it might be best that the kids not be exposed to the wider Superbi family until they are old enough and secure enough to have decided upon a profession or ambition they want to pursue. Superbi are all about following their passion, which makes them eccentric and driven. However those same qualities can also make them neglectful and callous, which would be counter-productive for all her emotionally damaged under-twelves. Pantera's a good friend but not a good option right now, beyond the basic issue of having less pull than his father due to only being Heir.

Francesco could train some up some of his people with Superbi help though, so if Xanxus makes this a joint project then Cesco can help out. It would be a nice distraction for him and provide the kids with a proper grounding influence. The Varia are not exactly normal after all.

Later. She's not even met the kids yet. Meet first, plot after. The convoy should be here at any moment and why isn't Xanxus down yet? He can shower in four minutes when he has to and she woke him up nearly half an hour ago.

"There're here, Officer," the Mist at her elbow informs her and Xanna sighs, decides that her Sky must have Reasons he's not sharing and heads out for the garages. It looks like she's going to be the welcoming committee all by herself.

* * *

She's barely into the garage when three of the five Lightnings Pýř took north with him notice her and all try to hug her at once. This is probably to do with prolonged exposure to small, traumatised children reminding them of their own experiences as small traumatised children, so she does her best to hug them back. Fortunately all are around her height and one is actually visibly shorter.

"Rough day?" She asks quietly as the shortest Lightning –his name is Éclair– buries his face in her jacket collar and whimpers very softly.

"Screaming, make it stop," he mumbles in a very small voice, which is a legitimate complaint when Housekeeping are trying to soothe five hysterical toddlers and a number of the older children are shouting and trying to get the toddlers back.

"Go sleep in the quiet room," she tells him firmly. The 'quiet room' is what the bedroom off her official Officer office has turned into; it should be her room but she sleeps with Xanxus so now it's a room where her Lightnings can hide out and de-stress when they want to be near people but not interacting. The security prevents anybody not a Lightning from going in –she got Maínomai to do it specially– and there's lots of soothing music –and headphones– to choose from as well as permanently dim lights and lots and lots of cushions and blankets. The bed is also high enough to curl up underneath, which a lot of them like doing.

Éclair squeezes her tight then flees; the slightly taller two close the gap he leaves and cling more desperately to her back.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?" she asks gently, aware of the stiffness in their shoulders and the tears sliding down her neck. She's also aware of some of the younger kids watching from inside the vehicles; the older ones have recovered the toddlers now –who have calmed down– and are listening very sceptically to the adults who were holding them.

The one on her left shakes his head; the one on her right reaches out for his colleague's hand and between them they manage a few shaky signs. Ah. Sometimes it would be nice to be wrong; the standard 'training' Lightnings are put through by the mafia does not deserve the distinction of being called training at all. "If either of you think Boss is going to let that kind of thing continue once he's Don Vongola then you really haven't been paying attention," she tells them firmly. "I'm his Lightning after all." That just makes them cry more; affirmation can do that. "I promise none of these kids are going to face that kind of training. Go and eat something then get some sleep; go join Éclair if you don't want to be alone." The blond one is Magari and the green hair belongs to Sert; names are gradually starting to stick, thankfully.

There are two reluctant nods and then she's alone; her Division is full of people who can move _very_ fast when sufficiently motivated. Now mobile again, she heads over to the gaggle of confusion by the vehicles.

"What's the hold-up?"

Suspicious eyes narrow at her. "You can't take the babies," the oldest boy says flatly, head shaved and suture marks running along his scalp like cornrows.

"Are you okay with feeding and carrying and changing them then?" Xanna asks practically. "Babies need you to talk to them and copy the faces they make and cuddle them constantly, or else their mental development never really takes off."

"Yes." That's a lie but he doesn't trust her so that's fine.

"Okay, but we really do need to let the medical staff check them over to make sure none of what's been done to them is going to kill them in the short term," Xanna explains. "You can come too; they'll explain everything if you ask and can avoid certain tests if you think they're unnecessary after you've heard the explanations."

"All of us together?" the older girl asks warily, far too thin and pale to be healthy and needle marks peppering her veins on both forearms.

"All of you together, if that's what you want," Xanna confirms. "Or you can split into two groups so I can sort out your paperwork at the same time; you're not going to want the medics to look at more than one or two of you at a time." Medical knew already they weren't going to get these kids into their department so they've set up a station downstairs.

The boy and girl look at each-other, glance back at the rest of the kids –who are now all clustered inside, around and under the largest van listening in– over at the other assassins watching the unfolding drama then back at her. "Who are you?"

"I'm Sprite, the Lightning Officer," she tells them, "and Guardian to the Vongola Tenth, who says you're mine to organise as I see fit." Xanxus's exact words before getting in the shower had been 'you sort them out, you're good with kids,' so she has free reign.

"What are you going to do to us?" one of the mid-sized kids demands, clinging to a slightly shorter child –a boy? – who appears completely catatonic. They have the same spiky indigo hair; siblings maybe?

"I am going to make sure none of you are dying," Xanna says firmly, "then I am going to get your paperwork in order, feed you and put you to bed. Then tomorrow I shall take some of you shopping for clothes for everyone, since I don't know what you like and choice is important. Then we can discuss things like education and interests and ambitions."

"What do you want from us?" the oldest boy asks suspiciously.

"I want you to be completely healthy and to live long lives doing things you enjoy," she tells them flatly, well aware they probably aren't going to believe her, "but I will settle for you recovering from the inexcusable torture you have suffered and healing to the point that it does not haunt you in every waking moment."

"That's it?" the older girl looks sceptical.

"Caring for children is an investment in the future," Xanna says, wondering if they're going to understand this or believe her if they do. "I will look after you and invest in you, so that you in turn can invest in other children in the future once you are grown. Childcare is something to be paid forward; a parent is supposed to pour affection into their child so that child can do likewise for their own children later. Parents are also supposed to nurture their children's dreams and support them."

"Dad said we should be honoured to be part of restoring the family to its former glory," the conscious indigo-haired child mutters, clutching at their catatonic sibling.

"He was wrong and what they all did to you was wrong too," Xanna says bluntly. "Everybody here is an assassin and they all think it's wrong too, despite not having much in the way of morals."

"Are you an assassin?" A tiny blond with a livid gash right across the bridge of his nose demands.

"No, I'm not," Xanna admits, "as I personally do not consider money to be sufficiently motivating to commit murder, but I've still killed people for trying to hurt my Sky." She takes a breath. "He protected me after I got my memories scrambled and never demands anything from me that I'm not willing to give." Which is all she's going to say to try and sway them.

There's a pause as this sinks in.

"Okay," the oldest boy decides firmly, "two groups the same size, one with me and one with Risa. But we have to be in nearby rooms with all the doors open." The pale girl with the needle marks must be Risa then.

"That's fine," Xanna agrees easily. "Can everybody walk or do some people need to be carried?" There are eight littler kids who dropped off during the conversation and another seven are barely staying awake.

"Carrying is okay so long as they stay close," the boy concedes. Xanna catches a few people's eyes and all the sleepier children are picked up and slung over shoulders or cradled carefully, depending on injuries and size.

"This way then," she says, turning and leading on back into the main building and the temporary medical station.

* * *

Xanxus wanders into the room through the door behind her while she's trying to explain to Luca –the boy with the sutures– why there needs to be a shared family name on everybody's paperwork.

"Look, you don't want to be separated," she says patiently, "but Vongola Law only prevents separation of close family members, so you all need to share a surname. Those of you with other surnames can keep them as middle names or for alternative identity paperwork outside the mafia –which will make it easier for you to evade scrutiny if you want to go civilian– but you need a common surname so that Ninth doesn't try to pressure Tenth to foster some of you out."

"We're not Estraneo!"

"You don't have to use that name, you can pick a new one," Xanna tells him calmly, not reacting to the ten-year-old screaming in her face. It turns out he's not the oldest, but he's the tallest, most coherent and most confident so she's letting him be spokesman as the other kids aren't objecting. "Do you want to be Pandino or Sergnano, after the towns we found you in, a more generic Lombardi, something vague like Trovato or Incognito or something hopeful like Bonaccorso?"

"Can be Marino if they want," her Sky adds, coming up behind her and bending down to nuzzle her ear. She's sitting beside the table in the meeting room adjacent to the room where the medical examinations are going on, the door between the rooms wide open as demanded, with all the most urgent legal paperwork piled up beside her. "Looking sparkly."

Xanna tips her head up so she can smile at him. "Thought I could treat you; isn't there a Marino family already?" She's pretty sure it came up in her reading once. Oh, her Sky has gone all-out on the make-up today; he's looking _exactly_ like the titular character in the Crow movie that came out last year. Is he seeking vengeance on the kids' behalf? Ninth really could –and should– have investigated this sooner…

"Minor Palermo group," Xanxus says dismissively. "Not formally recognised."

"Why are you suggesting it?" Luca demands warily.

"My surname," her Sky tells him.

"I thought you were Vongola." Smart boy for picking up on that when no actual words to that effect have been spoken; he might have sensed Xanxus, but Xanna can't quite tell if he's Active or not. It's harder to tell in children due to smaller reserves.

"I'm a bastard; I'm Vongola because I'm a Sky."

"Oh." Luca considers this. "Would having your name make you our Don?"

"Only if you want; common name," Xanxus explains.

"I like Lombardi," says a girl behind him. She has pigtails, which is interesting because most of the other kids have short hair regardless of gender.

"Vittore," the indigo-haired child still cradling their unresponsive sibling says firmly, "because we won." That is a very good choice actually; much better than any of her suggestions.

"Vittore," Luca agrees, nodding.

"Vittore it is then," Xanna confirms, adding it to each sheet of paperwork. "Sign here, Boss," she adds, handing him the pen and tapping the space under her own signature.

"Why are you signing too?" the skinny girl with pigtails asks curiously.

"I'm an adult, Boss isn't legally such yet," Xanna explains, "so even though he's in charge, I have to be primary signatory on things like guardianship papers." She's technically Belphegor's and Squalo's legal guardian, although Xanxus has made Sekti of Storm Division countersign Bel's documents too upon assigning him to the brat, which was shortly after said brat murdered his GM for disrespect. Sekti's only eighteen or nineteen but he's steady and Bel likes him, which means less work for her.

Pýř, as another fully adult Guardian, could sign this stuff too, but despite filling out most of the details on these forms for her during his trip back he has conspicuously failed to put his name on them anywhere. Which, fine. He doesn't have to. But his choosing not to means she feels obliged, as otherwise the only person who could put their name down and have the paperwork stick would be Tyrant. Tyrant already has all of Housekeeping including the apprentices on his plate; adding two dozen kiddies is a bit much.

Yes, she has thirty-seven Lightnings she's personally responsible for but Housekeeping is nearly twice that many people. Lussuria might be willing, but he's not eighteen for another two months and is already managing Medical on top of his Division. Xanna also isn't sure if he has any experience with small children.

"Okay, you are now the Vittore family, in the custody of the Vongola Tenth until half of you are past your majority and earning enough to appropriately provide for the younger half," Xanna says, signing the last sheet. "That's the hard part dealt with, so all that's left for tonight is for you to let me measure you so I can buy clothes tomorrow." She pauses, "and get looked over by the medics, who seem to be almost finished with the others."

"We're all staying together to sleep," Luca says flatly.

"There's a dorm room big enough," Xanxus agrees easily, "so long as some share beds." Mooks are sorted into dorms according to Flame type, but there's a small spare one that's nominally the 'Sky dormitory' that only get used when numbers are very high. Numbers are currently pretty respectable –Xanxus running the Varia has made it really popular as a career choice for those who think they can achieve Varia Quality– but mook attrition is pretty high too so it's not currently in use.

"That's fine." Luca yawns, which sets off the other kids present who are actually awake. All four of them. Xanna takes this as her cue to get measurements taken quickly, waving over a couple of nearby Mists to help and handing over the paperwork for filing. It's coming up on six in the morning so regular daytime activities will be starting up soon and she'd rather have the kids out of the way before then.

* * *

Investigating the Estraneo having been a Vongola mission, Xanxus has to go report to Don Vongola about it. However he can't _possibly_ go and report until he knows everything that happened and what is in the piles and piles of documentation that got brought back and is even now being pored over by the entirety of Information. So after putting the kids to bed –and showing the now very drowsy older kids how to properly handle the knives slipped under their pillows by helpful Varia assassins– Xanna heads back down to the ground floor and the operations room.

There are now three operations rooms, all with the connecting doors open and every Mist in the building plus a good number of Suns poring over paperwork, sorting it into piles and adding post-its to pages, wall-boards and scribbled notes. It's quiet but very busy and a lot of people are eating breakfast without looking up from their reading. Xanxus is sitting in a massive, comfortable armchair behind one of the larger paper mounds and skimming through an inch-thick folder while drinking coffee.

Later there will be discussions and arguments as they try to piece all this disparate data together into a cohesive picture, but first everything has to be read and understood.

Xanna wanders around the rooms, peering at the typed and handwritten sheets until something catches her eye; newspaper clippings attached to printouts. Settling in a chair, she pulls the stack towards her, grabs a few clean sheets of paper and a pen from the middle of the table and digs in.

This will take hours; intelligence work always does. She rather enjoys it, no matter now depressing and revolting the subject matter.

* * *

By lunchtime Xanna is thoroughly sick of her reading material. Yes, she can disassociate with the best of them but those numbers and 'subjects' mentioned in the medical journals? Those were children. Seven years ago the Estraneo numbered eighty-five men on its active rota, sixty of whom were married and most of whom had underage children. Not just 'a child'; children. Plural. There were over one-hundred and thirty children in this mafia family when the wider mafia started persecuting them. Then two years later the remaining twenty men –and thirty women, most of them widows– decided that the hundred-and-fifty-six children in their care were their ticket to power and prosperity.

Five years. In five years one hundred and forty-seven of those children have died. First the older teenagers, then the younger teens and when she found the paperwork and set off this hunt they were already most of their way through the children and getting started on the pre-schoolers. The ones born in hiding, children they had raised. Not just 'the family's children' but _their_ children.

Twenty-five of the women died in birth-related complications due to the men experimenting on them and their children in utero, and most of those deaths were in the past three years.

There are only five toddlers out of a total of fourteen children under the age of five.

The remaining children are outliers: one twelve-year-old, three ten-year-olds, a nine-year-old, a seven-year-old, two six-year-olds and a five-year-old. They are the ones who have survived over a year of experimentation apiece out of their respective age-groups. Some of them have survived several years, or were the 'control samples' in a wider testing pool until there were no more people in their bracket to compare against, at which point they became the 'final model' for the 'successful' procedures to be enacted upon.

The Estraneo were not patient. They would not have waited for the toddlers to grow older and stronger. The younger outliers would probably have outlived the babies had experimentation continued.

It is very clear in the paperwork that all of the under-fives were bred specifically with experimentation in mind. The women conceived them in vitro to promote certain traits in their offspring, picking fathers based on Flame-types, skills, intellect and how those traits meshed with their own.

The only full-siblings still alive are the nine-year-old and catatonic seven-year-old, whose spiky indigo hair and heterochromia is ringing a mental bell somewhere in her hindbrain. Considering their names are Naomi and Natsuki –and Xanna is not convinced Naomi is a girl what with them writing their name with the hiragana for 'truth'– she isn't entirely sure why, as she doesn't think they featured in that long-ago story. They lost their parents when the mafia turned on the Estraneo –despite the older child referring to somebody as 'Dad' earlier– and don't seem to be closely related to any of the others. Their names being Japanese also points to at least one foreign parent.

Natsuki is suffering some kind of mental trauma that prompted the Sun examining him to send for three different Mists, but the eventual collective conclusion is that it is a psychic injury he will recover from best without interference, provided he is given solid anchors to reality. In other words, if his sibling goes on hugging him he will snap out of it eventually.

Not that Naomi was likely to let go of their brother regardless of the diagnosis, but having their clinginess affirmed certainly helped them settle. It's not really that simple but the medical jargon lost her and the short explanation given to the children is accurate enough not to ring false in her ears. It's not the 'if he wakes up' that Medical is worried about but his state of mind upon waking; amnesia or some form of mental regression are both possible, even just temporarily.

Speaking of, they're probably going to start waking up soon if they haven't already; she needs a break from the paperwork and she did promise to take some of them shopping. Thankfully Xanxus has a separate budget for expenses incurred as Vongola Heir otherwise Mammon would skin her for what she is planning.


	4. Chapter 4

Twenty-three children –twenty-four if you count Bel who is very much a child for all he's an undisputed genius– keep Xanna very, very busy; the next two months pass in a blur of tantrums, medical scares, attempts to rationalise the necessity of education –she ends up phrasing it as 'it will be harder for you to be made to disappear if more people know you' and it hurts that it sticks so much better than the kinder suggestions– and a range of parenting challenges. Six toddlers are very, very challenging to parent –even just part-time– and Xanxus ends up having to designate an entire half-floor of Varia Headquarters as 'child-friendly' and move a lot of people around so as to prevent fatal accidents. The Varia isn't even a safe environment for adults, but at least this way the children are far less likely to die in some long-forgotten trap. Even though half of them are Flame-Active now.

She only notices April arriving because Xanxus throws another big birthday picnic for her and invites all their friends, which is even more chaotic than last year due to there being two-dozen kids running around in addition to all the Varia assassins. The food is much safer though and her Division are finally getting to grips with the concept of 'appropriate' so Xanxus doesn't actually shoot anybody for giving her unsuitable gifts this year. He barely even has to threaten.

Her birthday is swiftly followed by Easter, then summer hits and she realises that it's nearly a year since her injury. Where did the time go?

Stupid question; the toddlers have eaten it, clearly. That's how they're getting so big so fast. Thankfully she's not the only adult parenting them: several members of Housekeeping have taken over full-time care now that the older children are more trusting, but Xanna is still designated authority figure and the person who gets appealed to whenever any of them are told 'no'.

Xanxus finds this hilarious. Most of the time; bedroom invasions at painfully early hours of the morning are very much not appreciated, despite him obviously understanding exactly why they want to cuddle with her after a nightmare. Their relationship hasn't really got off the ground yet due to the abrupt influx of small children, but now that she's finally got breathing room Xanna _wants_ to get their relationship off the ground, because thinking about Pantera no longer makes her heart twinge and the low-level mental itch of thwarted lust is becoming increasingly distracting, especially at certain times of the month when her hormones act up. She needs to do something soon or else she's going to jump him at an inopportune moment and accidentally get pregnant. Because of course Flame suppressants aren't the only drugs she has idiosyncratic reactions to; birth control is on that list too. Along with a few popular anaesthetics and common painkillers; 'never seen that before' is not a fun reaction to get from medical personnel.

With all this in mind, Xanna calls Francesco about him possibly taking the brood –plus a handful of watchers– out to one of the Cavallone stables for a long weekend. Then she makes sure her Sky hasn't booked any missions for then –not that there are many at this time of year– and makes a point of being non-committal when asked about why.

Of course, once she's got all that set up and ready, Signora Vongola _would_ call and ask the two of them to come over on that Friday. And Xanxus says yes, despite having probably guessed what she's up to, because it's his grandmother and she's asking.

Hopefully it won't take too long.

* * *

Not wanting to deal with all the formal palaver involved in walking through the front gate, Xanxus decides to borrow a motorbike and drive them up to the garden gate they snuck in through –and out of– so many times as children. Xanna is all for it so they drive up early in the morning before the heat really sets in, chain the bike outside the gate and walk up through the gardens.

They're just passing the maze when Xanxus' head snaps up and Xanna abruptly loses any sense of her own Flames.

"Predictable," Enrico snorts, coming out from around a hedge with his Mist Giglio at his shoulder; they have just walked into a trap, one that prevents them from using their Flames. How embarrassing.

"I take it Signora Vongola didn't actually call?" Xanna comments idly, abruptly glad for all those swordsmanship lessons and the long blade hiding inside her jacket. Xanxus may not be able to charge his bullets with Flames, but they'll still shoot holes in people.

Enrico snorts. "I'm not a Bond villain, Xanna; I don't monologue."

To her right Xanxus quietly collapses and Xanna realises she is out of time. This is a trap targeting her Sky, either through a Curse, Alteration or Territory. Varia policy for Mist-traps is simple: kill the Mist.

So far as Enrico and his Guardians know, she duel-wields batons. The two middle-aged men are therefore not particularly concerned by her decision to charge them; her range with batons is short and she's not that tall to begin with. However the sword Squalo has finally pronounced her competent enough to use extends that reach by a further sixty centimetres and she is currently fitter than she has ever been before in her life.

Her fellow Officer also decided that iaido would compliment her speed-based fighting style. Taking Giglio's head off before he quite gets around to attempting a parry is unexpectedly easy; he's never really taken her seriously as a threat. Too bad for him.

"No, Giglio! Die you whore!"

Wow Enrico, so unimaginative. She can feel Xanxus now but his Flames are still distressingly dampened. She doesn't have time to play with the oldest of Ninth's sons; getting Xanxus to help is her priority and Signora Vongola –and her Guardians– is the best help she is likely to get.

Covered in arterial spray Xanna dodges the infuriated but physically unfit Sky, sheathes her sword as she runs back over to Xanxus, hauls him over her shoulder and takes off at Flame-augmented speed, zigzagging and keeping her senses wide open in case of other ambushes as she vaults flowerbeds. Enrico is still chasing her and hurling abuse but Signora Ottava's rooms are just over at that end of the–

Her Sky's Flames explode into life, the force of it rippling through her and his sudden determination to move overbalancing her and knocking her face-down into a peony bush hard enough to steal her breath. She therefore misses seeing the confrontation between Enrico and her miraculously revived Sky, but it feels short and very final.

"Pixie?"

She levers herself out of the shrubbery, trying and failing to wipe off the dust and muck that has stuck to the blood she is covered in, creating some really disgusting mud in the process. "Here Boss."

Her Sky stares at her for a long moment, then glances down at the Vongola ring on his hand. "Trial," he says nonsensically.

"Pardon?" Clearly something has happened, but what?

"Trial Ninth mentioned," Xanxus expands, looking at her again. "To do with the ring; think I passed." He frowns. "Wasn't paying much attention initially; wanted to get back to you."

"Giglio's dead." It seems the thing to say. Never mind that she's painted with the man's blood and smearing it across the landscape.

Xanxus raises an eyebrow. "The others?"

"Not seen them yet." Enrico has four other Guardians who are probably going to try and murder them for killing their Sky, never mind that he started it by trying to assassinate Xanxus. That is treason, because her Sky is the Tenth and they're all Vongola, but Enrico has never considered the rules to apply to him.

"Xanna?" That tone, that tone is serious.

"Talk to me, Xanxus."

"Should I take on the sins of past Vongola Bosses as my own?"

"Fuck no," she replies promptly; is this what that trial-thing was about? If so, what a crock of shit. "Everybody's sins are their own; your predecessors each have to shoulder their own sins and you will do the same. You may have to hand out apologies and restitution on behalf of your predecessors due to their stupid-ass decisions, but their sins are not your problem. Only your sins are your problem. All the dead Vongola Bosses have already paid for those sins and the living ones can't hand them on to you unless you allow it, which you shouldn't. Make your own mistakes and own them."

"Thought so," her Sky says with a pleased smirk. "Thanks, Xanna."

"You're welcome," she tells him. "Now let's go tell your grandma you passed and use her phone to call Massimo and tell him the news."

"Good news or bad news first?" Yes, they've just killed Massimo's big brother haven't they.

"Let him pick?" Xanna suggests. "Just, please, can we go inside? I need a shower." Fully dressed, to get the muck off her uniform; it's stain-proof so it won't be a problem. Actually taking a wet cloth to the uniform before showering would be more practical and would keep the lining dry, so she'll do that.

"Of course, pixie." Her Sky grins at her. "Will kiss you once you're clean." Not that his jacket and trousers aren't smeared with blood from her carrying him, but none of it's on his skin.

Xanna snorts. Now that immediate danger has passed she's feeling a little frisky herself. "Not joining me in the shower?" she teases.

"Tempting." Oh, it's not fair that he can look at her like that and make her insides tremble. "Don't want to be interrupted though."

Point. If Don Vongola hasn't noticed his eldest is dead yet then he will very soon. "After this we are going for a nice private dinner," Xanna says firmly, "and then I am taking you home and trapping the bedroom door." Because she is tired of interruptions and wants to have the time and space to take things slowly; this is too important to rush.

"Going to tie me to the bed frame, pixie?" Xanxus rumbles teasingly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and steering her across the lawn towards his grandma's rooms.

"Would you like me to?" She's not bothered either way.

He side-eyes her, red eyes heated. "Could be persuaded."

"Let's see how we feel then, shall we?" It's not like this is going to be the only time they do sexual things together, even if it is the first time they're doing them together as a couple.

"Good plan." Xanxus makes a face. "Would kiss you now but you're filthy."

"Yes, let me wash Giglio off first." It's an odd feeling, knowing that Enrico and his Mist are dead. She didn't much like either of them but they were there and she knew them a bit, so knowing that they're gone is strange and uncomfortable. She had been more upset by Francesco's father's death last November though. "And please let Signora Vongola's Mist look you over; I nearly had a meltdown when you collapsed." She compartmentalised it instantly but a corner of her brain is still gibbering in terror and demanding she strip her Sky naked and examine every inch of him to make sure he really is okay. Then get both Mammon and Lussuria to check him over too.

"Just ran out of air," Xanxus admits quietly. "Wasn't expecting it. Will in future."

"I don't think Federico will be this stupid," Xanna points out, "but the rest of Enrico's Guardians might and I put nothing past Ninth."

"Senile old man," Xanxus grumbles as they reach the open terrace doors leading to his grandmother's sitting room.

"Grandson! How kind of you to– ah, not a social call then." Signora Vongola's gaze sweeps over them both and settles on Xanna. "Feel free to use the shower, dear; grandson, clean up, sit down and talk to your grandma."

Xanxus accepts a Conjured wet cloth from his grandmother's Mist; Xanna goes. She wants to be clean for the next bit.

* * *

Upon leaving the bathroom after washing and dressing again she is instantly set upon by Signora Daniela's Mist –who goes by 'Mist' as though no other name is necessary– who examines her narrowly, pokes her with his Flames and eventually pronounces her 'clean, now'.

"I wasn't before?" Being unable to sense even her own Flames clearly left her vulnerable to attack, but there were no immediate effects so she thought she had escaped mostly unscathed. Clearly not.

"A subtle little Curse in your brain; you'd have had a lethal aneurysm within the week," Mist tells her as he shoos her into the main room. Xanxus instantly abandons the couch and hurries over to examine her himself, his Flames sliding through hers and under her skin, the heat sinking into her bones as he pulls her over to sit down beside him.

"This is turning out far too much like my own ascension to Donna Vongola," Signora Vongola sighs sadly. "I will talk to Federico myself; tearing the family apart like this does nobody any good."

Xanna learned in her civics lessons that one of Ottava's cousins attempted to murder her after she was confirmed as Heir, despite the man previously losing the Ring Battles to her. She'd never really thought how that would feel in person, to have a relative you'd grown up alongside trying to kill you over power. Enrico never even pretended to like her and she is indifferent to him at best, but she knows him. Knew him. She feels worse for his remaining Guardians though; some of them were kind.

"Talk to me, Xan?" she asks her Sky quietly, snuggling into his side as Signora Vongola heads out of the room, Mist and Rain falling in around her.

"Mist checked me over; mild oxygen starvation from nitrogen asphyxiation. Not permanently damaging, no brain damage either," Xanxus tells her quietly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You were quick enough."

Thank-you God and whatever it was that brought her to her Sky if it wasn't God; she'd hoped that killing Giglio would be enough, but killing the Mist does not always guarantee that the problem goes away. Curses are more popular than Alterations though and she'd been pretty sure Giglio specialised in Enchantment-style Curses, powered by his Will rather than by creating a physical change in his victims. Thinking about it is horrifying though and Xanna buries her face in her Sky's shoulder, clambering into his lap and clinging as she trembles in delayed terror.

"Got you," Xanxus murmurs into her damp hair, hugging her firmly and rocking gently. "Called Pýř and Luss for reinforcements; Squalo and Mammon are keeping an eye on things at the Varia." Bel is out on a mission and that is all the Officers accounted for. The rest of the Varia can handle themselves and the kids are with Francesco; they'll be fine too with the Cavallone looking after them.

She cannot speak right now. She did all the right things and it worked out, but it nearly didn't.

Xanxus unbuttons the top of her shirt and tugs her collar open so he can kiss down her neck and across the top of her shoulder, gently scraping his teeth across her skin and digging his tongue into sensitive spots. One hand slides up her back under her jacket, crumpling her shirt and pressing firmly against her spine. It's sensual and soothingly distracting; she lets herself be comforted, shifting so she can press her own face against his neck and breathe him in.

The warmth of his Flames cocooning her is even more reassuring, the undercurrent of protective fury and righteous outrage steadying her. Everything is going to be okay.

"Hey, congratulations," she manages eventually.

"Hm?"

"Passed the trial," she reminds him, pressing a kiss to the soft skin under his jaw. "You'll be inheriting around your birthday."

"Only be seventeen; can't take over properly 'til I'm eighteen," her Sky mutters sourly into her skin.

"Can choose not to delegate anything to Ninth though," Xanna points out, sliding her lips down his neck so she can feel his pulse beating just under the skin, "so long as you have a few other adults with the right bloodlines to run things for you." The official business parts of the Vongola do need to be overseen and managed by adults, but Xanxus knows lots of those and most of them are fanatically loyal to him.

"Point," Xanxus sighs, toppling over sideways and shifting so he's lying along the couch and pinning her legs between his thighs. "Think Enrico knew?"

This is clearly a change of subject. "About your parentage?" Xanna guesses.

"Hm," Xanxus confirms, moving her a little so he can turn his attentions to the other side of her neck. "Massimo knew."

"Enrico was always hung up on logic and propriety," Xanna points out idly, her fingers toying with the soft short hairs at his nape. "Massimo's more intuitive." Enrico may not have believed Xanxus was his father's son, but since Ninth openly brought her Sky into the Vongola family then Enrico likely assumed that Xanxus was Vongola in some way and his father knew how, but wasn't sharing the specifics because they were even more scandalous than the story settled upon. Like Xanxus possibly being Massimo's or Federico's.

The thoughtful hum from her Sky indicates he's followed her reasoning there. Possibly through his Flames, since they're still sliding under her skin and merging with her own. "Federico?"

"Don't think he cares." Ninth said Xanxus was their brother and that seems to be enough for Federico, who has always been completely gleeful about no longer being the youngest. Yes, there've been various personality clashes over the years, but Xanna's never got the impression that Federico doesn't love the red-eyed wild-child his father claimed. Don Vongola's youngest loves easily and artlessly and Xanxus is included there, despite Federico having an annoying tendency to speak before he thinks.

"Knows?"

"Probably never thought about it." Federico is charming and caring but he's not an introspective thinker and is far more of an extrovert than Xanxus is ever going to be.

An amused huff against her ear. "Sounds about right." He shifts a little and she's pushed onto her back, her Sky looming over her and thumbing a few more buttons loose.

"Stop taking my clothes off," Xanna grumbles, swatting at his hand. "This is your grandma's sofa."

"Please, pixie?" He actually pouts and flutters his eyelashes at her, which makes her giggle.

"No. Kiss me," she demands, grabbing his hand and pulling it away from her shirt to cradle her face and sitting up a bit to meet him halfway.

Seconds later she's flat on her back again and being kissed senseless, the hand that had been tucked into the small of her back sliding inside her trousers and cupping her behind, pressing her groin against his as he rocks in time with her increasingly frantic heartbeat. His other hand is buried in her hair, tugging on her scalp and tilting her head to give him better access to her mouth. Xanna manages to untuck his shirt so she can scrape short, blunt fingernails across his lower back –he bucks and chuckles darkly against her mouth– but keeps her other hand around his neck, thumb sliding across his throat.

Xanna can't tell if the urgent heat coiling under her skin is her own desire or her Sky's Flames reflecting his lust, but she doesn't care. She wants him and the intoxicating fire in her blood is amazing.

* * *

"Well, this is a familiar scene."

Xanna gasps as Xanxus pulls away from her mouth, hands reluctantly untangling from her clothes. "Grandma," he groans petulantly.

"Very familiar," Signora Vongola repeats as Xanna pants blindly, mindless heat fogging her mind and electric shudders zinging up her spine. "What is my very naughty grandson doing to the poor girl on my sofa this time?"

"Grandmaaa!" It's a whine and a protest. Xanna braces a hand against the sofa back, slowly slides her lower body out from under her Sky and settles into a sitting position, tugging her shirt into a vague semblance of order and fumbling with the buttons. More of them were done up than this, she is sure they were…

"Are you with us yet, dear?"

Xanna blinks blearily at the kind, lined face smiling down at her. "Maybe?" she offers tentatively.

Signora Vongola clicks her tongue and pushes Xanna's hands away from her shirt, doing up the buttons with considerably more dexterity than Xanna is currently capable of. "There you go, dear, a bit more presentable," the old lady says warmly. "Mist, a comb."

Xanna sits still and allows Signora Vongola to tame her still-damp hair into something resembling order, half her attention on the gnawing ache in her lower abdomen that is her body's protest at being interrupted before Xanxus's attentions could bring her to the desired climax. Of course now she can think a little she's not entirely sure she wanted him to go that far just yet. Especially not on his grandma's sofa. That's tacky.

If it was Ninth's sofa that would be different, but Signora Vongola has always been very kind to her and doesn't deserve to have to deal with the aftermath of sofa sex.

"Xanxus?" She manages.

"Yes?"

"Stop seducing me on your grandma's sofa." There's an amused snort from across the room and a muffled giggle that is definitely Lussuria, but she ignores both. "She deserves better."

"So Federico's sofa would be fine, pixie?" Oh she can hear the amusement there, asshole.

"I was thinking Ninth's sofa, but whatever."

Signora Vongola cackles as Xanxus throws back his head and laughs loudly, making the entire couch shake. "Exhibitionist pixie," her Sky chuckles eventually as he settles properly at the far end of the sofa and pulls her feet into his lap so he can run his fingers over her bare ankles.

"You are overestimating my awareness," Xanna tells him dryly. "It's very challenging to notice anything other than you once you're kissing me." Especially when he wraps his Flames around her like that; it completely destroys her ability to sense anybody else.

Xanxus's smirk is utterly male, exceedingly self-satisfied and makes her insides clench hotly. Stupid body. Now is not the time.

"Flirt later," Pýř suggests coolly, walking around to lean his elbows on the top of the sofa. "Murder first."

"Who are we murdering?" Xanna asks.

"No plotting murder where I can hear you, children," Signora Vongola says tartly, settling in her favourite armchair as Lussuria wanders over to join the Cloud Officer behind the sofa. "Xanxus, my dear grandson, I have spoken to my son concerning both the Inheritance Ceremony and Enrico's foolishness. The Ceremony will take place on your birthday, which is as soon as is possible, but in return he asks that his eldest son's treasonous behaviour be kept secret and a proper funeral be held."

"No body," Xanxus points out, eyes angry.

"It will be a closed casket funeral, grandson," Signora Vongola says quietly, "and mainly for the benefit of his surviving Guardians, who were unaware of his intentions today."

"How could they not know?" Xanna asks, aware that she is being told the truth but sceptical on whether all these good intentions are going to lead anywhere worthwhile. That saying about the road to Hell comes to mind.

The old lady sighs, abruptly looking every one of her eighty-five years. "Most of my older grandsons' Guardians are political choices, Xanna dear; the brothers and cousins of Alliance Dons. All those Dons have chosen your Sky as the Tenth they would prefer and have made their reasoning clear to their families; being Guardians to any Vongola Sky is a privilege, as even if that Vongola is not the Don they still have a voice and a Guardian can ask their Sky to intercede on their Don's behalf. My eldest grandson's Guardians knew him and most of them recognise Xanxus would make a far better Don Vongola, which is likely why Enrico chose to confront you with only one Guardian supporting him." She looks so awfully sad that Xanna wants to hug her; idiotic traitorous would-be murderer or not, Enrico was her first grandchild and this has to be terribly painful for her.

"Who was Giglio before he was Giglio then?" Xanna asks instead, wanting to change the subject.

"Pietro Molinaro, Don Molinaro's older brother," Signora Vongola says with a sigh. "He was passed over by his father for being Flame Active, as the Molinaro prefer their Dons to be Latents; their family lore holds that Latents are more level-headed."

"Sounds about right to me," Xanna admits. She has been a lot more inclined to extreme solutions since becoming Flame-Active and knows it; she would never have considered murder as a viable strategy in her previous life and didn't in this one until that moment in the hayloft, which is probably when her Flames surfaced. Teeth are not a logical first choice when unarmed either, but that is still what she went with.

"Being a Mist can't have helped," Xanxus points out idly, "considering the prejudice." There are horror stories about First and Second's Mist floating around at school, shared by the kids and never cracked down on by the adults. Heck, Massimo's shared a few creepy stories his mother told him as a child, which she supposedly heard from her grandmother, who in turn heard them from her grandmother who was alive back when Daemon Spade was still around. There's a lot of lore that isn't written down anywhere in the Vongola Alliance and is all the more pervasive for it. Most of it isn't true.

"Looking back, I can see that Giglio hungered for a position of greater influence than the one he was passed over for," Signora Vongola sighs, "but my very foolish grandson's choices were entirely his own. A fully bonded Mist cannot influence their Sky save with words." Because the bond lets the Sky notice what their Guardians are doing with their Flames, although it's possible that an inattentive Sky could be manipulated that way.

"Words are more than enough," Xanna says quietly, her mood thoroughly dampened. Diplomacy at work; words are dangerous things.

"What's the lie then?" Xanxus asks grumpily, fingers tight around her ankles.

"A training accident with his Mist," Signora Vongola says evenly, "in a place they should never have been training at all, so it is not at all surprising that my poor young guest thought they were being attacked. Enrico then died when his Mist's constructs were left uncontrolled after his death."

"So you're blaming my pixie," Xanxus says flatly. "No."

"Grandson, Giglio was clearly killed by a swordsman," the former Eighth says patiently, "which everybody knows your Lightning is not. There are no Flame-traces at all, in fact; obviously his killer was Latent."

What a beautifully ironic lie. "Do you have a scapegoat in mind?" Xanna asks dryly.

"Rain has a grandson he is teaching the sword to," the old lady says serenely. "Only thirteen but very promising. Left-handed too." Rain is closer to Ninth's age than Signora Vongola's, being her third Rain Guardian.

"Will he know?"

"Of course not, it was terribly traumatic so Mist wiped it from his memory entirely; the poor boy lacks the reserves to ever become Active, you see." Another blatant and terribly plausible lie; lovely. The nameless child in question not being capable of Activating his Flames is true though, so it holds water.

"The Varia will know," her Sky says quietly.

"As they should," Signora Vongola agrees. "My son also knows, and so will my other grandsons and their Guardians. But the wider family will not, for the sake of the bereaved."

"It would make the whole inheritance process messier too," Xanna realises to her disgust. "You've only got our word that it was treason at all."

"And the word of the Mists in Security," Xanxus reminds her. "Who do like you a lot."

They like her? She had not known that. "Really?"

"You respect them."

"Why wouldn't I? They're polite professionals."

Xanxus rolls his eyes. "We just discussed anti-Mist prejudice, pixie."

Oh. Yes; that. "It is prejudice and therefore lies." Obviously.

Her Sky shakes his head, smirk fond. "Never change, pixie."

She's twenty and remembers being twenty-nine; change at this point is unlikely. "Squalo is probably going to get blamed by the conspiracy theorists," Xanna reminds them, "because he's a Varia assassin, a swordsman, a leftie and Xanxus's Guardian." Never mind that Squalo currently doesn't have a proper left hand, seeing as he's still growing and can't be fitted with a permanent prosthetic. He has some low-grade ones so he can fill out a pair of gloves, but none of them have the strength and mobility required for proper swordsmanship. Squalo's adapted some workarounds but he's definitely looking forward to the promised proper hand.

"It will make a very fine rumour that you can debunk at will, dear," Signora Vongola says indulgently. "Everybody knows you are quite ridiculously and uncomfortably truthful, even to your own detriment."

"I won't lie about killing Giglio," Xanna agrees quietly, "but I won't volunteer it either." She can dissemble if she chooses; 'Signora Vongola told me' is something she can say very truthfully.

"Likewise," Xanxus agrees, fingertips caressing the arch of her foot.

"Security will drop you off outside the garden wall when the time comes to leave," the old lady tells them, "but first my son would like a word."

"No."

Xanna blinks at her Sky; this she was not expecting.

"Grandson?" Clearly Signora Vongola wasn't expecting it either.

"He claims to be moderate and kind but his firstborn just attempted fratricide and he wants to sweep it under the rug rather than face up to why Enrico thought he could get away with it. No." Xanxus is adamant. "I'm sick of the emotional blackmail."

"We had a date planned," Xanna adds quietly, not looking anybody in the eye. It hurts to be reminded that Xanxus's fondness for his adoptive grandmother was taken advantage of by a close relative to set up a murder attempt and it hurts more that Don Vongola wants to use Xanxus's self-defence –and his defence of her– against him rather than owning up to his own mistakes. "Now I just want to go home and watch silly movies so I can stop thinking about how I watched my Sky nearly die somewhere I thought was safe." She can be emotionally manipulative too and it's even the truth. The kissing helped but she's still shaken.

"Dearest, I'm so sorry," Signora Vongola says contritely. "Of course you can go home; meetings can wait until tomorrow."

"Thank-you," Xanna says meekly. "Where are my socks and boots?"

* * *

"Maybe not entirely sick of emotional blackmail," Xanxus comments musingly once they've secured finger food, drinks and blankets and barricaded themselves into one of the smaller projection rooms at the Varia.

"Hm?" Xanna is used to her Sky continuing conversations that finished hours ago; just because he stops talking it doesn't mean he has stopped thinking. He does overthink sometimes, but so does she. Squalo is a nice change in that respect; he's utterly direct and blunt, so there's not much subtext to get tied up in.

"Nice when you do it for me," Xanxus adds, settling next to her on the sofa –much more battered than Signora Vongola's despite being newer– and taking the platter of food off her.

"I didn't actually do any blackmail," –this time– "I just told the truth," Xanna says mildly, reaching out to grab a slice of cured meat.

"Subtle pixie," he agrees as on the screen trailers start playing.

Xanna reaches out for a slice of bread and glares at her Sky when he moves the food out of reach. Yes, she could climb over him –has done so before– but she's not in the mood right now. "Crow," she says warningly.

Xanxus meets her eyes and glances down at the platter, then back up at her. Xanna looks at the bread she wanted and the cheese –she likes mild cheeses despite something about them niggling in her mind, a memory lost– then warily back at his face. Her Sky uses the slice of bread she is eyeing to scoop up a large slice of brie and holds out the folded over result to her.

Xanna leans forwards and accepts the not-quite-sandwich with her teeth, biting off a mouthful. Xanxus makes a small interested noise as her lips brush his fingertips and shifts his grip so she can take another mouthful. Then deliberately does not shift his grip on the final third so she has to close her mouth around his fingers and use her tongue to wrestle the morsel away.

Her Sky feeds her olives, cured ham, beef and salami, more bread and cheese, and fish, balancing the platter on his lap so he can eat with one hand and feed her with the other. Xanna amuses herself teasing him with lingering glances, deliberate attention to his fingers with lips and tongue and the occasional edge of teeth; his enjoyment of the game is all over his body language.

The movie starts; both of them ignore it in favour of food, until there is no more food. Xanxus then sets the platter aside with calm deliberation, rises to his knees and leans into her space. "This is not my grandma's sofa," he growls, eyes dark and hot.

"It's a much more private sofa," Xanna agrees readily; it's also a sofa that's seen a lot of Varia action before now, going by the battered upholstery and faded, tangled Flame-traces. No bloodstains though, thankfully.

Her Sky chuckles as his mouth covers hers; laughter twists his lips up in the corners and rumbles in his chest as he drags her down under him and sets about stripping off her shirt. Xanna reciprocates, undoing buttons and shoving the material down his arms so she can run her hands over his chest.

She catches his wrists as he reaches for her belt. "No rush," she says firmly. Pantera taught her how much fun you can have if you take things slowly and it's a lesson Xanxus could enjoy. Patience is very definitely a virtue.

"No rush," Xanxus agrees after a split-second's hesitation, splaying his hands across her abdomen and sliding them slowly around her waist and up her back.

Xanna smirks up at him. "Kiss me," she demands, a flick of her hand encompassing her entire upper body.

Her Sky's answering smirk is hungry and wicked. "My pleasure," he purrs, sliding his hands down to her hips and sitting back on his heels so he can bend down and press wet, messy kisses onto the skin around her hips where they peek out of her trousers, teasing her with tongue and teeth and very conspicuously taking his time to taste every single centimetre of skin and dip under the edge of her waistband.

Xanna squirms happily, then gasps as fingertips skim up her stomach to trace idle patterns around her breasts as he kisses her stomach. "Xan," she complains when he pauses over her breasts, nuzzling and teasing her with light caresses.

"Pixie," he acknowledges, glancing up her body with eyes dancing.

"Don't I get to kiss you too?" she asks, pouting.

In barely a second he's nose to nose with her, hands gripping her waist as he twists and then she's on top of him, straddling his lap as he sprawls back on the cushions. "Kiss me then," he drawls, letting go of her and stretching his arms above his head, hands dangling over the armrest.

Xanna slowly leans forwards, controlling her descent with her core muscles until her breasts press against Xanxus's chest and her lips can tease the tendons in his neck. "I think I will," she tells him slyly, wrapping her arms around his ribs so she can lean into the heat of his body as she kisses up his throat.

Her memories of the threesome with 'Tera are a bit fuzzy, but she thinks she can remember some of the less obvious places her Sky had really enjoyed being kissed. The others she will rediscover for herself.

* * *

Summer is as disgustingly hot as ever and made more awkward by small children who are unfairly immune to the soaring temperatures. Xanna becomes crepuscular, sleeping during the hottest midday hours and at the dead of night, getting things done in the early mornings and late evenings. The children follow her lead with startling ease, making it much easier to keep them safely occupied and entertained.

Between July and August four assassins and an indeterminate number of mooks are summarily done away with for attempting to involve the kids in Varia-style 'fun' out of boredom. It's a smaller number than it might have been but still far too many; Varia Headquarters is a profoundly unsuitable environment for small children and despite most members of the young Vittore family still being hyper-vigilant due to their experiences as test subjects, they're not Varia Quality. Not even slightly.

Xanxus getting fully invested as Tenth means they can move the kids into the Iron Fort, but Xanna is deeply ambivalent about that too. She does not want to live in the same building as Ninth and Sawada –not that Sawada is exactly capable of interacting coherently these days and is apparently disinclined to even try, as his injuries have not been good for his state of mind– and the recent attempted murder makes her even less keen. Home base of the Vongola family it might be, but the security definitely needs a thorough overhaul.

Her Sky knows all this. He knows she knows he knows. He's already talking to various Heads and underbosses about changes when he's not springing surprise visits on a range of Vongola facilities and workplaces at odd hours of the day and night. Xanna's been along on quite a few of those; they're fun. Occasionally irritating but always very satisfying, because she has explicit permission to call out everybody on _all_ their various lies; all the corrupt idiots dig their own graves and she just shows her Sky where the holes are, so he can scare the trash into throwing themselves in headfirst.

Her most surprising late summer encounter is with Dino Cavallone, now fifteen and a half and finally hitting his growth spurt. He's also suffering horribly from puberty, so can't actually look her in the eye without blushing scarlet and losing track of his words. She's only wearing the cut-off tank top at all because for some reason people find a sports bra less modest than a bikini, despite it covering more.

The embarrassment is both adorable and acutely awkward. Xanna makes him sit down on the couch so he can't trip over his own feet again, then has to get off the couch and sit on the coffee table so he stops stuttering, mumbling and blushing at the proximity and how little she's wearing in the summer heat. Not that he's wearing much more; his shorts are no more than fifteen centimetres longer than hers, maximum.

"So, you wanted to ask me something," she prompts gently once his colour has returned to almost normal. It's a good thing Xanxus is out –on Patrols with Bel as it happens– as otherwise the poor boy would probably be even more incoherent and embarrassed.

"Y-yeah," Dino agrees quietly, fingers twisting in his lap and shoulders hunched, refusing to make eye contact. "I, um, wanted to ask? About Squalo?"

"What about Squalo?" Xanna knows Dino is Squalo's best –and possibly only– friend at school, not that Squalo really seems to have noticed. Possibly because Squalo has no idea what normal friends do, so doesn't realise that treating Dino like an actual person and alternating between goading him to improve and demolishing his detractors is best friend behaviour. Mostly Squalo complains about how Dino keeps following him around and inviting him to things, with occasional grudging admissions that 'the horse isn't that bad' when the Rain needs help with his maths homework.

"He, um, is he skipping ahead? Next year? He, um, won't tell me? I think he's still angry at me for, um, following him into sports track?" All those lilting interrogatives make it a somewhat incoherent sentence, but Xanna gets the gist. "I know he wanted to skip ahead last year when he changed tracks, um, but the teachers wouldn't let him? Because his grades in his second semester were, um, pretty terrible? Due to him losing his hand and, um, dropping out of several subjects? Or, um, something?"

"Or something," Xanna agrees; Dino is spot on there. "Yes, this year his grades are good enough for him to skip ahead provided he gets some specific coursework done over the summer. The teachers will allow it since he's not really made many connections with his classmates." In the sports track it's teamwork that matters most, so Squalo rubbing just about everybody in his year the wrong way is a good reason to kick him up if he can manage the harder theoretical classes.

"Oh. Okay. Um," Dino glances at her very quickly then back at his shoes. "Are you letting him?"

"I am letting him attempt the material," Xanna says. Squalo has demolished most of it but is still really struggling with the mathematics. It's not the formulas that trip the Rain Officer up, amusingly enough; he has trouble distinguishing which formula goes with which type of maths problem. "Why are you asking?"

"I. Um. I got offered?" Dino whispers. "So I, um? I wondered if he had too? I mean. Our classmates are okay? But? They're not really my friends?"

Oh, that's very sneaky of the teaching staff. Dino's certainly bright enough to skip ahead –he's brilliant at mathematics and his language skills aren't at all bad– and he really understands teamwork incredibly well for all he's constantly tripping over himself, so he will do well in the more advanced classes. Squalo on the other hand can lead a team but is bad at being _part_ of a team, mainly because he knows he's Varia Quality and his classmates aren't. Being around older people with more refined skills will be good for Squalo as it will teach him to cooperate less grudgingly, so moving him up a year makes sense. However Dino and Squalo also have a very good social dynamic so moving one without the other could be detrimental to both.

"You are Squalo's first friend," Xanna confides to the blushing teen, "so he doesn't really know what to do with you because he doesn't know what friends are supposed to be to each-other. If you want to move up I say go for it; Squalo will be there too." If Dino's going to be there then she'll insist on it regardless of Squalo's grades on the catch-up material.

"Oh. Um. Okay," Dino looks daunted but the expression quickly slides into determination as he finally manages to make proper eye-contact. "I'll be a good friend, I promise."

"Maybe talk to him more?" Xanna suggests. "He won't laugh at you as long as you're honest and doing your best." Might also get it into Squalo's head what normal friendship involves.

"I will." The younger Cavallone says determinedly, trying to get to his feet and overbalancing instantly; Xanna catches him as he tumbles into her, face almost colliding with hers.

The mortified whimper as a fiery blush engulfs his face, ears and neck is very cute. "I should probably carry you downstairs so you don't trip over a trap and die," she comments musingly; the dying rodent noise he makes as he tries to scramble away from her says loud and clear that it's not just general awkwardness that's the problem. Her first boyfriend's little brother has a crush on her. That's… actually that's adorable. Cesco wasn't much older than this back when they were dating but he was certainly much smoother.

His flailing overbalances him again; Xanna grabs his leg and opposite arm, dragging him bodily onto her lap so he doesn't crack his head open on the coffee table. The wide eyes and full-body shudder as this registers is vaguely flattering. "Breathe," she tells him firmly.

The initial obedient gasp makes him looks like a startled fish. "Eyes closed," she orders; hopefully if he's not looking at her he'll recover more quickly.

On the upside, Dino does manage not to hyperventilate once his eyes are tightly closed. However after settling that little bit it is very obvious his raging hormones will make it impossible for him to calm down any further; he is both blatantly turned on and frozen in panic. There is nothing she can do about _that_ except hand him back over to his driver and send him home; it's vanishingly unlikely he's going to achieve mobility or coherence any time soon otherwise.

"Dino, I'm going to carry you downstairs to your driver," she tells him matter-of-factly, "so go limp for me, please." His immediate compliance makes it easy for her to slide his upper body over her shoulder and get to her feet, hands gripping his upper thighs so he can't fall off.

Xanna ignores both the confused whimper at waist level and the arousal prodding her shoulder and marches out of the suite; the sooner this stops being her problem the better.

* * *

"So the colt has a crush."

Xanna glances up at her Sky over her paperwork; that was only yesterday, how did he find out?

Xanxus grins at her. "All over the Varia," he informs her; "nobody's told the shark yet though."

"Why not?" More normal Varia behaviour would be to tell Squalo immediately so as to enjoy his reaction.

"Betting pool on you being his first crush too."

Okay that is even more Varia. "Aren't Rains supposed to arrive late at the puberty party?" Mentally at any rate; Squalo is already considerably taller than her and his voice is doing the funny squeaky thing. He hates it and has been surprisingly quiet lately as a result.

"If he was just Rain; shark's Cloud and Mist too," Xanxus explains.

"Well since there's a pool I'm going to put money on you being his first crush," Xanna says firmly. "The whole reason he's your Rain in the first place is that he admires your passion." Plus, well, Sky-bonds are intimate and puberty is confusing. Something she experienced first-hand.

"Shark likes men?"

"I'm not sure he cares about anything except combat skills, strength of will and respect for his individuality," Xanna admits. Squalo is visibly indifferent to gender and sexuality in the day to day and doesn't appear to care about any of it unless a person is using it as an excuse or a slur, at which point he beats the offender bloody and assigns punishment; a good number of mooks have fallen foul of this over the past year, sometimes terminally. Squalo might even be aromantic or asexual, not that anybody considers either of those to be a 'thing' yet.

"Fair enough." Xanxus is probably pansexual, not that he's bothered about putting a name on his preferences. He has specific tastes, but none of those tastes are defined or limited by gender or anatomy. Xanna personally identifies as asexual, as she's never looked at somebody and thought 'wow, I really want sex with them,' ever. Yes, making out and snuggling is a lot of fun, but dating has always been about whether she trusts that person and wouldn't mind maybe marrying them, not how much they make her heart pound and head spin.

Xanxus does get her hot and bothered but it's sensual, not specifically sexual; she wants him to hold her and kiss her. Anything beyond that is situational –such as while they are already making out– or due to her hormones going crazy at specific points in her menstrual cycle. Xanna does not consider either to really count, so asexual it is.

"Pixie?"

"Hm?" She looks up from her paperwork again and startles slightly at how close he is. He was at his desk seconds ago!

Her Sky takes the file off her and sets it on the coffee table, gently scoots said coffee table back with his foot and kneels in front of her, resting his hands on her knees. "You're beautiful, pixie," he tells her simply, slumping down to rest his chin on his knuckles.

"Thank-you," Xanna replies, because she can't think of anything else to say.

"Mine," Xanxus adds quietly, one hand stroking lightly up her leg to her hip, around her behind and back down to her knee again along the underside of her thigh.

"Yours," she agrees, because it's true. She's his Lightning, his friend, his girlfriend and has nobody else here that she could ever belong to as much as she does to him.

"Xanna, will you marry me?"

Her mind goes blank. She did not expect this question. The careful, hopeful way he's watching her is somewhat terrifying.

"I was not expecting that question," she manages after a few seconds' silence.

Xanxus looks baffled. "Why not? You know I love you."

Yes he does and yes, she does know that. Yes she's dating him and the kissing and touching and intimacy have fitted into their lives like they were always supposed to be there. Yes, she would like to marry him. But she still wasn't expecting him to ask.

"I'm your Guardian and your friend."

"Of course," her Sky agrees easily, "but I want to wake up with you in my arms every day for the rest of my life and have children with your smile and dance with you at parties and share everything I am and own with you. I love you more than anybody else. Please?"

Truth is beautiful and terrifying and liberating all at once. "Okay."

"Is that a yes?" He's tense and making a clear effort not to dig his fingers into her legs but his eyes are shining with giddy anticipation.

"Yes, I'll marry you."

The smile he gifts her with is brilliant and bright and dazzling; he fishes a ring out of his trouser pocket and grabs her right hand –her non-dominant hand– so he can slip it on her finger. It's beautiful, plain gold –or at least golden– and covered with finely etched circuitry with beautifully faceted orange gems embedded in it here and there.

"I made it specially," Xanxus says, pushing her legs apart and kneeling up between them as he catches her hand and lights it up with his own Flames. "Push your Flames through the metal and it works as a focus like the Vongola rings, but the gems are so it can store my Flames too and draw on our bond so you can use them in an emergency; Wrath Flames as well as regular Sky Flames, so you have both if you need them."

Only her Sky would make an engagement ring that lets her use his Flames; she loves him so much her heart hurts and she can't find words. So she kisses him instead, calling on her own Flames and letting them mingle with his to say all the things she feels.

He kisses her back just as fiercely, dragging her forwards into him and the world narrows down to his mouth and body against hers.

"Marry you tomorrow if I could," Xanxus mutters in her ear some time later as she sucks a hickie on his neck, "but I've got to wait until I'm eighteen." Which is over a year away.

"Lots of time to plan in," Xanna offers huskily once she's satisfied with the bruise she's created, "get the Vongola beaten into shape so it's safe to start trying for kids."

Her Sky moans, squeezing her close so she can feel his cock twitching against her groin. "Want to start that now," he admits breathlessly. "Want you so much."

Xanna has managed not to have intercourse with anybody yet, despite enjoying quite a lot of sexual contact with various different boyfriends over the years, Pantera in particular. "Not having a child before the wedding," she tells him as firmly as she can at this point, which is not very. Yes, condoms are a thing but they're not entirely reliable and oral contraceptives do not work for her.

Xanxus –her fiancé– kisses her hungrily until she's gasping for breath. "Going to make me wait for our wedding night?" he purrs.

"Might do," Xanna agrees breathily, "might not." A few months beforehand to practice in won't do anybody any harm and she'd still fit into the wedding dress even if she did get pregnant.

"So can I try and persuade you?" That is the voice of temptation and it is murder on her self-control even before he slips his fingers into her knickers.

"Once you've, set a date," Xanna manages to gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders in response to those intimate caresses. Oh that feels so _good_ …

"Hm," his tongue teases her ear. "An autumn wedding?" Of course he's not going to wait until the following spring…

"End of, next October," Xanna suggests, "I could, wear orange." This conversation is not going to last much longer, her Sky is too good with his hands for that. Not that she has any objections…

"Not white?" Bloody Xanxus and his bloody bedroom voice; he could probably talk her to climax if he didn't enjoy touching her so much.

"White weddings, is a commercial, thing," she manages; "Rather wear your colour; set a trend."

Xanxus abruptly shifts his hands and rises to his feet, forcing her to wrap her ankles around his back so as not to fall off him. "Bedroom," he purrs in her ear as he carries her briskly across the room, "no interruptions."

"You like me in orange," Xanna realises; yes he's bought her orange clothes before now, but he buys things in every single shade that suits her.

"Like you best in _my_ orange," her Sky corrects her, locking the door, setting her down on the bed and unbuttoning her waistband.

"Golden orange with redder streaks?" Xanna guesses; that's what his Wrath looks like. "Could get me a little nightie," she suggests playfully as he tugs her trousers off, "or some lingerie; I'd wear it for you."

Xanxus fists his hands in the sheets on either side of her hips and pants hoarsely, glowing crimson eyes boring into her. "You fucking tease," he growls, Flames pulsing around him strongly enough to feel but not quite intense enough to see. "Strip."

Xanna slides her knickers off first just because she can, pulling up a leg so she can kick them off the end of the bed between her fiancé's knees. Then she pulls the long, loose scoop-neck linen shirt she is wearing off over her head, revealing that she didn't bother with a bra at all today. Xanxus definitely noticed that earlier though; linen is slightly sheer.

Her fiancé stares at her body lustfully for several long, tense seconds; she can see the muscles in his shoulders and upper arms flexing under his shirt. Indulging her inner imp of mischief, Xanna slides one knee up and reaches down to touch herself.

Her hand never gets past her hipbone; he collapses onto her, shifting her raised knee over his shoulder and Xanna's world instantly narrows down to the brain-scrambling ecstasy of being intimately and vigorously kissed.

* * *

It takes a surprisingly long time for anybody to notice the extra ring she's wearing; possibly because the ring is on her right hand and usually engagement rings go on a person's left. It takes until she's being fitted for a discreetly armoured and thoroughly Flame-proof suit a week before the Inheritance Ceremony, in fact, and even then it only gets noticed because the person doing the fitting is Lussuria.

"Honey-bun, is this what I think it is?" he demands, catching her right hand and tapping the etched and orange-studded band on her ring finger halfway through pinning the darts in her jacket.

"What do you think it is?" Xanna asks lightly.

"Sprite!" her fellow Officer scolds her, "is this an engagement ring?"

"Yes."

Lussuria squeals, clutching her hand to his chest. "I knew it! Finally! You and Boss are getting married!"

"Not for over a year yet; he's not old enough," Xanna reminds the Sun Officer; she's trying not to think about the fact that she's twenty now and Xanxus isn't even seventeen until next week.

"Darling he's nuts about you and has been for years," Lussuria says dismissively. "Believe me sugar, he may not have realised it until recently but it's _always_ been about you. You know how dedicated Boss gets when he sets his heart on something."

Yes, Xanna does know; possibly better than Lussuria, considering she was the one who had to deal with five years of her Sky building his guns and all the associated explosions. "He hasn't always been in love with me, Luss."

"Maybe not," the Sun concedes, "but he's always loved you and always trusted you completely. And really, with your ridiculously co-dependent sleeping habits how would he ever manage marrying anybody else?"

That she had not considered; then again, she never had any trouble sleeping alongside 'Tera. How well Xanxus sleeps when she's not there is more the issue though; he worries about protecting her. She just worries about being safe.

"So tell me about it, sugar-lump," Lussuria demands, going back to pinning the jacket. "Did he go down on one knee?"

"Both knees," Xanna replies, unable to stop the tiny fond smile at the memory of her Sky propping his chin on her knees and gazing softly up at her; Xanxus is fierce, passionate and shamelessly emotive but he rarely lets his vulnerabilities show. That he lets her see them is an indicator of how much he trusts her.

"So romantic," Lussuria sighs, "and he made the ring for you specially. How am I ever going to find a man even half as thoughtful and cute?"

Xanna's brain instantly correlates 'cute' with Dino Cavallone and she has to muffle a giggle at the mental image of Lussuria and Dino. Dear Lord, that would be a train wreck; Lussuria is strongly into bondage now and while Dino very clearly hasn't a clue what he likes, he definitely wants _something_. Still, Dino is only fifteen and has plenty of time to explore his tastes.

"Share the joke, sugar?"

"Dino's crush," Xanna tells the Sun. "Very cute. Hasn't a clue what to do with himself about it, but cute."

Lussuria smirks fondly. "Let me guess, blushing and non-verbal and tripping over himself worse than usual?"

"Uh-huh."

"That _is_ adorable," the Sun Officer agrees. "I hear you carried him downstairs."

"Slung over my shoulder, yes."

"Poor, poor baby, that can't have helped." Lussuria looks positively evil. "You really weren't tempted to tease him at all, honey?"

"Luss, I am twenty," she reminds her fellow Officer chidingly. "Twenty and poor Dino's only fifteen. Teasing would be cruel, especially when he knows I'm involved with Boss."

"I suppose," Lussuria sighs, shifting around to work on the other side of the jacket, "but he blushes so prettily."

"You've seen him blush?"

The Sun Officer smirks. "I've picked up Squ-chan from the Cavallone Estate a few times," he shares, "and maybe flirted a little with your smitten horsie. Sports track has given him some lovely muscles and the way he goes red and stutters at innuendo is completely adorable."

"I had to drag him onto my lap so he didn't crack his head open on the coffee table," Xanna confides, "and his brain instantly melted out of his ears. He didn't know what to do with himself."

Lussuria cackles, quickly putting down the pins before he drops them. "Poor, poor baby! Then you hoisted him over your shoulder and carried him downstairs? Oh honey, that's just cruel, putting your hands all over him and giving the poor boy so much fantasy material! No wonder he keeps hiding from you."

"He's what?"

"Darling, you've been over to visit the older blond charmer four times in the past month; have you seen young and smitten even once while you were there?"

Now that she thinks about it… "No, I haven't." The Cavallone are in a bit of a financial tight spot at the moment –the previous Don Cavallone was not at _all_ good with money– and Xanxus's obvious favouring of Francesco is most of what's keeping the creditors at bay; the greedy graspers are more interested in currying the Tenth's favour than getting their money back. Their friend isn't amazingly happy about this, but it means he can keep his family together while he scrounges up funds and that's what matters most to him. It helps that Xanxus is paying his men –and women– generously for their time and expertise to babysit the Vittore. Most of the older kids are in school now, but the younger ones still need full-time care and the Varia is truly, incredibly busy right now, what with the Inheritance Ceremony coming up and it being peak mission season as well.

"You were his celebrity crush," Lussuria explains gleefully, "desirable but unattainable. But then he had to talk to you and he found out you're not just a smart and gorgeous icon but a kind person who smells good and is strong enough to break him in half. So now he's even more smitten and terrified that Boss is going to find out and kill him for it."

"How do you know all this?" Lussuria is definitely not Dino's confidant.

"I have eyes and a brain, sugar-lump," the Sun Officer says smugly, "and Squalo's been complaining."

"Boss thinks it's cute." Xanxus is utterly confident in her feelings for him and they're engaged; the idea of him having competition for her affections is laughable.

"That would embarrass blondie even more," the Sun Officer chuckles, tugging on the lower edge of the jacket to make sure it is hanging straight. "I may have to tell him."

"Lussuria! Be kind! Don't you remember the awkward confusion of being fifteen and smitten?" Not that Xanna's ever been as intensely smitten as Dino clearly is, but some of her teenage crushes were deeply confusing. That rebound boyfriend for one; what on earth was she thinking?

"I, well, yes?" Lussuria admits, moving on to adjusting her trouser seams. "But I got teased a lot so surely it's my turn now?"

"Wouldn't you have preferred to not be teased?"

"We don't always get what we want," the Sun Officer says, an underlying edge to his words hinting at painful and uncomfortable history.

"You're Varia Quality now Luss," Xanna reminds him lightly, "so you can have everything you want and more; who's going to comment, much less try to stop you?"

"So I can afford to be gracious to helpless floundering innocents?" Lussuria asks, tone wry but the dangerous edge no longer present.

"I would not call Dino innocent at this point," Xanna says dryly, "inexperienced and confused perhaps; definitely not innocent."

The Sun Officer cackles again. "So I could offer the guidance and support I would have liked to get at that age? Sweetheart do you know what you're asking for there?"

"I am not asking you for anything except tolerance," Xanna replies quickly, "anything more is entirely your idea." Setting Luss on anybody is not something to be done casually and that was definitely not her intent!

"Well sorry honey but now I'm curious," Lussuria tells her unrepentantly. "I promise not to break him though."

"Try not to bend him noticeably out of shape either," Xanna mutters. "Cesco is going to kill me as it is." Train wreck. She can hear the screaming already.

Sugar-lump, would I ever?" Luss is laughing up at her from behind those sunglasses and that innocent smile, she knows it.

"Yes you would and you'd smile while doing it."

"Honey, it's like you know me." Luss presses a hand to his heart while faking shock, then smiles again. "Don't worry about your little worshipper; I promise to be gentle."

"Cesco will murder me." Perhaps not literally but there is going to be so much moaning and guilt in her future she can't bear to think about it.

"I won't say a word, sugar!"

"You won't need to; Cesco will look at me and _know_." She is doomed.

"There, there, honey," Luss pats her knee, "Boss will cover for you and so will everybody else."

"Stop trying to reassure me, it's not helping." Xanna wants to lie down on the couch and scream into a pillow. Xanxus is going to laugh so hard when he hears about this and Squalo is going to chase her around a training room while screaming at the top of his lungs.

"I'll just finish the fitting then sugar."

"Thank-you."

* * *

The Inheritance Ceremony… well, it goes. There are far too many blank-faced and steely-eyed heads of criminal organisations attending the event for Xanna's comfort, but Xanxus paints her face with strong, sharp colours and braids her hair back flat against her skull so she looks fierce and authoritative. Her suit fits perfectly, her boots are her own comfortable Varia ones hidden under her trousers, Bel is impeccably well-behaved and Ninth puts on a truly impressive façade of confidence and affection to assure everyone present that he is completely delighted to be handing over the Vongola to Xanxus. The actual ceremony is very short and cryptic, but who really cares. Her Sky has achieved his dream.

Then there is nothing left to do but stand at Xanxus's side as he circulates and talks business, listening attentively and occasionally flickering her Flames to indicate when people are lying to him.

There is plenty of alcohol and fashionable nibbles, and the whole affair goes on for hours; by the end her head is spinning with faces, accents, attitudes, implications and what few names she can remember, trying to keep them all straight and connecting them to her preparatory reading.

A number of the guests notice the extra ring she is wearing; none of them comment on it directly, but Xanna can tell which ones recognise it for what it is and which misunderstand. Her Sky is young and none of these people would baulk at sending a pretty woman –or man– to distract him if they thought it would work. Some may yet do that regardless, but the smarter ones know that Xanxus has committed himself elsewhere and can tell she will be difficult to sway away from him and even harder to fool; her knack for truth is not a secret.

Every single one of those more observant guests congratulates her Sky on attracting such capable Guardians. It is a _pro forma_ compliment overlaying the implicit observation that the Vongola Tenth is already looking to the succession but will not be marrying for the sake of alliances or improving the bloodline; Xanxus is marrying for himself and has chosen a bride with whom he shares the strongest and most profound affinity that the mafia recognises.

Xanna does not speak unless Xanxus addresses her –this is a very formal occasion– and Squalo does not speak at all, loitering at their Sky's other elbow and keeping most of his attention on the rest of the room, watching the undercurrents and tracking the body language of everyone out of hearing range. Bel is probably eavesdropping –he is short enough and young enough to be overlooked– Lussuria is hanging off Francesco's arm and gesturing extravagantly, Pýř has vanished entirely –typical Cloud– and Mammon is probably floating around unseen, collecting profitable gossip.

Ninth keeps up his façade of assurance and pride until the very end of the evening, when the new Don Vongola, his predecessor and all their Guardians depart the event together. He keeps it up all the way down the hall and into his private rooms, until he is settled in a chair and Xanxus is sitting opposite him, at which point it collapses like an overstressed beam.

Xanxus is calmly indifferent to the blatant distress flaring through the aged man's Flames. "Shark, drinks."

Squalo raids the liquor cabinet for the new Don Vongola, then brings glasses and bottles over for the Ninth and his Guardians too.

"What aren't you telling me, old man?" Xanxus demands once he's downed a glass of whiskey and Squalo has poured him a second one.

"My son." Signor Vongola looks far older than his sixty-five years. "I made my sister-in-law's son Iemitsu Head of the CEDEF because he is directly descended from First through his father. I did not want him disrupting the succession and he was happy to take on the role."

"So? He's paraplegic and brain-damaged now." Xanxus looks bored, which is an altogether different kind of lie to the ones she usually deals with. Her Sky is a truly magnificent liar and he never does it with words.

"My nephew is dying," Signor Vongola says quietly and tiredly, "and is unlikely to live another six months if his condition continues to deteriorate as it currently is. So I have a favour to ask you, my son, for the family's sake."

Xanna suddenly knows where this is going. "I take it First's lineage does not end with Iemitsu then," she states.

She is now the centre of attention. "So you did know," Ninth sighs.

"I suspected." She never had any proof but the way Iemitsu watched his words around her was suggestive even without her outsider knowledge. Avoidance is still a kind of deception despite involving no outright lies and the omissions were telling.

"Tell me your side, Ninth," Xanxus drawls, as though he's heard her side before and just wants confirmation.

"Iemitsu's son Tsunayoshi is six years old and lives with his mother in Japan," Signor Vongola says softly, fatigue and grief weighing him down. "With my nephew's incapacitation and eventual death his family's care falls under Vongola purview, as the CEDEF lacks a widows and orphans' fund. Iemitsu asked that I keep his son and wife away from the Vongola, but that is no longer my decision. All I ask is that whatever you choose to do, you treat them kindly." In other words, 'if you kill them make it painless and quick.'

"Tsunayoshi is a Sky," Xanna says when it is clear that the retired Don is not going to reveal that particular detail.

"Yes, he is," Signor Vongola admits after several seconds of Xanxus staring holes in him.

"What did you do to ensure he would be kept away from the family?" Xanna asks, making sure her tone communicates clearly that she knows exactly what he did and wants him to admit it. She suspects, and she has believable grounds for her suspicions should her Sky be interested in the details later.

"I sealed him." No outrage or fury follows; sealing is not uncommon for small children with Flame potential whose parents wish to live among civilians. It ensures the children never become Active at all. However if Xanna's story-induced suspicions are correct Tsunayoshi was not Latent when he was sealed.

"Why was sealing necessary?" She asks instead. "He was living far away from the Family already, unlikely to ever encounter life-threatening danger and nobody even knew Sawada was married."

The way the old man looks at her, all exhaustion and unease and deeply-buried fear, says a lot. As does his silence; he cannot deny her suspicions.

"Sprite."

She turns to face her Sky. "I have reason to believe Tsunayoshi Sawada became Flame-Active aged five or earlier," she says simply, not reacting to how drastically the atmosphere of the room changes in response to her statement, "but his father clearly did not want him trained."

"You sealed an Active child. An Active Sky child." Xanxus's voice has murder running right through it. "Grandmother will be so disappointed."

The way that hits home is beautiful. Xanxus could not have done more damage if he'd borrowed Squalo's sword and stabbed the man between the ribs.

"Xanna."

"Tenth." It's her first time using the title to his face and she can see how much it means to him.

"Get him." Fetch Tsunayoshi Sawada, probably living in Namimori, Japan. Fetch the relative Ninth and Sawada have so terribly wronged, just like they wronged her own Sky.

"As you command, Don Vongola." Xanna turns to meet Visconti's eyes, reading there his shock and outrage; he had not known about this. "Visconti, would you assist me in arranging the flight?" She will take the private Vongola plane.

"Of course, Guardian," he replies, voice tightly controlled as he moves away from his Sky and falls in beside her as she heads for the door.

"My son?" Signor Vongola sounds alarmed now.

"I have full confidence in my Guardians' judgement," Xanna hears her Sky say as she opens the door, "and my Lightning Officer has never disappointed me."

Well that is a glowing endorsement if ever there was one, especially considering the last year's many messes.

* * *

"Where are you going?"

Xanna looks up from her packing –feminine business suits with long skirts since Japan has more rigid gendering expectations– and smiles at Natsuki, who is lurking in the doorway. "Tenth needs me to fetch a family member from Japan," she tells him.

The eight-year-old frowns at her. "Why you and why now?" he asks warily. Natsuki has recovered relatively well from his psychic trauma, but rather than losing memories he has acquired more. An entire lifetime's more, apparently. Xanna isn't sure whether this is reincarnation or some kind of parallel world resonance, but the result is that Natsuki remembers far more than he has lived and adjusting has been challenging. She has told him about her own odd memory issue, which has helped him settle and not worry about how he 'should' be behaving.

Sharing her secret has also resulted in the little boy following her around whenever he's in the building, which would be more worrisome were Natsuki not an Active and very strong Mist with a knack for physical illusions. Xanna is resigned to the boy becoming Varia at some point; he's already fluent in six languages and several of the veteran Mists are cheerfully critiquing his illusion technique at every possible opportunity. If he continues at this rate he may eventually be in the running for Mist Officer, provided Mammon retires around the right time.

"The family member in question is six years old and has been severely harmed by Ninth and the previous External Advisor," Xanna tells the boy bluntly. "Tenth is sending me because he knows I have experience with children and that I can pass as a civilian, so I will not incur the suspicion of the child's mother."

"I want to come."

Xanna looks at the slim indigo-haired eight-year-old, the only persistent external marks of his traumatic experiences in his cautious behaviour and his formerly brown eye, which is now a flat, pupil-less red. It doesn't impede his eyesight at all but it's very noticeable and he can't actually do anything about it; it's connected somehow to his being Flame-Active. He can hide it behind an illusion, but he prefers not to.

Taking along a child will make this a lot more complicated. She still has a feeling it's the right thing to do though; something in the back of her mind makes it seem appropriate.

"Go and pack four complete changes of clothes, extra underwear and socks, slippers, pyjamas, your toothbrush and anything else you want to bring like books, music, games or soft toys," she tells him. "It is going to be a very long flight to Japan and you don't want to be bored." She isn't sure what the weather will be like but Natsuki can use his Flames to keep himself warm if mid-October in Japan turns out to be chilly.

The boy dashes off; Xanna wonders again why this feels like the right thing, dismisses her concerns and goes to call the school so they know Natsuki will be off for the rest of the week for 'family reasons'.

* * *

It turns out that the first thing Xanna has to do upon arriving in Namimori is inform Iemitsu's wife that her husband was in a plane crash _over a year ago_ and is both paralysed and brain damaged. She leaves off mentioning the depression –the diagnosis of which is based on the impression of his Flames from those more sensitive to Flames than she– or that the doctors suspect that the depression is dramatically hastening Iemitsu's demise. She then has to comfort the women and apologise for the news not reaching her sooner; she throws Iemitsu under the bus there, explaining that Sawada had put on his business paperwork that he had no dependents –actually true– so nobody realised he was married until very recently.

She then throws Ninth under the bus too, explaining that Iemitsu's uncle ran a family business in Italy and Iemitsu had run one of the external branches, so Iemitsu's hospitalisation and transferral to medical leave had been done by the branch office. They had only found out about Iemitsu's wife and child when his uncle retired –the day before yesterday– and mentioned them. Of course the new owner –her boss– was outraged that his predecessor had so neglected his niece-in-law and great-nephew, so had sent her to check up on them and bring them into the fold.

Oh, and to add them to the company's family pension plan, since her husband had been working for them for over a decade now.

Nana Sawada is inconsolable at the dreadful news of her husband's incapacitation; Xanna suspects there may have been a low-level bond forming there and that the woman has known something was wrong for some time but has been ignoring it as 'irrational'. Having her worst fears confirmed has destroyed the woman and she is almost catatonic with grief.

Xanna eventually has to put the almost-widow to bed and have Natsuki assist her by enforcing sleep. That done, she heads out to the local elementary school –where the paperwork in the house indicates Tsunayoshi is a student– to collect the little Sky she is here for. Natsuki follows at her heels, staring around curiously at the houses that are nothing like what he is used to.

Of course, being a total stranger in a smart suit standing outside an elementary school is very conspicuous in a town as small as Namimori. Especially when you have an eight-year-old part-Japanese child in baggy jeans and an artistically ripped heavy metal band shirt leaning into you.

"Are you new in town, ma'am?" a man wearing a white headband asks her politely as a cluster of mothers eavesdrop surreptitiously.

"I am visiting the wife of my employer's cousin, Sawada Iemitsu, who has been involved in a tragic plane crash and is unlikely to recover," Xanna says clearly and mostly truthfully; Xanxus is technically Sawada's adoptive cousin after all. "The news was too much for Sawada Nana-san, so I am here to ensure her son knows what is going on. Do you know if Sawada Tsunayoshi-kun has a friend he could stay with for a few days while his mother adjusts?"

There is much horrified murmuring and offered condolences and several of the women immediately promise to visit Nana-san with food. The man with the headband informs her that 'Tsuna-kun' is in his son Takeshi's class and he would be happy to host him. He then introduces himself as Yamamoto Tsuyoshi –which is ringing a bell in her mind despite being an incredibly common Japanese surname– and that he owns a sushi restaurant. He then tries to draw Natsuki into conversation, but the boy ignores him.

"Please excuse Natsuki-kun," Xanna says diplomatically, "he was very badly treated before arriving in my care and is mistrustful of adults, especially men." Which is all true, but Xanna suspects Natsuki may be picking up on something 'mafia-ish' from Yamamoto-san that is making him keep his distance.

"Ah, my apologies then, Natsuki-kun," the sushi chef says directly to her ward before looking at her again. "Are you and your ward staying locally, ma'am?"

"We have a hotel room booked for a week," Xanna informs him, well aware that she has not handed out her name and not intending to do so until Tsunayoshi is here. "My employer has recently inherited a very large international family business and I am in charge of human resources, so I cannot stay any longer than that. I do intend to extend an invitation to Sawada-san to accompany me back to Italy to see her husband in hospital, so we may leave sooner." Xanna does not believe for a minute that Nana will decline and it will make it much easier for her to get Tsunayoshi examined by a range of Flame-specialists.

Then children start emerging from the building and all conversations are put on hold.

"Yamamoto-san? Can you see Sawada-kun?" She does know what he looks like from the photos in his mother's house, but asking seems more appropriate. Yamamoto-san cannot see her intended target, but his son has just arrived and does remember where he last saw the boy, so they all go looking for him.

They find Tsunayoshi Sawada sprawled face-down in the dirt as three much larger children empty his bag out onto the ground. Yamamoto-san takes immediate action against the juvenile delinquents; Xanna quietly asks Natsuki to rescue Tsunayoshi's belongings then lifts the small –too small– boy back onto his feet and crouches down to meet his eyes properly.

"Hello Sawada-kun, my name is Xanna," she tells him, neglecting to specify that it is her first name rather than a surname. "Your father's cousin is my fiancé and I'm here because your father is in hospital." Still truth, but a different facet for a different person. "My fiancé wants me to bring you and your mother back to Italy with me so we can look after you."

"Kusanna-san?" Tsunayoshi manages, blinking at her.

"Close enough," Xanna agrees. "Sawada-kun, your mother was very upset to hear about your father getting hurt, so is it okay for you to spend the night with a friend?"

"I don't have friends," Tsunayoshi says quietly, eyes dropping to his scuffed knees.

"I can be your friend if you want, Tsuna!" Yamamoto's son says cheerfully, coming up alongside the smaller boy and wrapping an arm around his shoulders with a bright smile.

"I am Natsuki and Xanna is my foster-parent," her little Mist-shadow says firmly, now clutching the six-year-old's rescued schoolbag, "so you are my cousin, Tsunayoshi."

"Y-you can call me Tsuna," the tiny boy says shyly, looking like he can't quite believe this is happening. "I didn't know I had cousins."

"You have lots of cousins," Natsuki informs him, "and we will all look after you and teach you Italian." Somebody's getting attached; Latency does not stop bonds forming and it can happen near-instantly, so maybe that's what's happened, even with the seal in the way? She's never seen Natsuki this possessive of anybody before, not even his older sibling.

Then Yamamoto-san returns and invites them over for dinner at his restaurant; Xanna resists politely before finally accepting, but insists she has to go back to Sawada-san's house for Tsuna's things and to leave a note for his mother. Natsuki decides he wants to stay with his new cousin –more unprecedented behaviour– so she leaves her new little charge in the young Mist's capable hands and accepts directions to the restaurant so she can find it later.

* * *

Natsuki manages to get himself invited to stay over with the Yamamoto family as well, so Xanna sleeps alone –and predictably badly– in her hotel room. The engagement ring and its steady low-level hum of Sky and Wrath does help, but Flames aren't everything. She's used to having someone warm and breathing to cuddle as well.

The next morning Xanna visits Sawada-san first thing and finds the woman throwing herself into a whirlwind of packing. But only for herself; all her son's things are untouched.

"I don't want to uproot my Tsu-kun like that," the ditzy woman says earnestly when Xanna asks if she can help with the boy's things, "he's having enough trouble in school. He can stay here while I nurse my husband back to health! I wouldn't have time for him and he would feel isolated in a foreign country."

Xanna does not say that Iemitsu is well past recovering; she has said that already. Nana Sawada is in denial. Deep, deep in denial. "But Tsunayoshi-kun is family," she says instead. "His cousins are all very keen to meet him, as they had no idea he existed until recently. He should get a chance to meet them."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly burden you with my clumsy son." Well, who else is she going to 'burden' with the sweet, hopeful, trusting baby Sky who desperately needs far more support than he is actually getting?

"Allow me to book you a flight, Sawada-san," Xanna says instead, "and would you just sign these papers? They're so you can be covered by the family health insurance and can receive your husband's medical pension directly." And sign over your son's custody to my fiancé if you refuse to stay in Italy, since Tsunayoshi is of Vongola blood and the family has always made a point of ensuring that Vongola are raised by Vongola. Usually widows and orphans go to live with in-laws, but there are contingencies in place for other options.

Nana Sawada signs everything, thanks Xanna for her kindness and leaves in a taxi without so much as calling the school or phoning Yamamoto-san to ask him to continue hosting Tsunayoshi indefinitely. Once she is gone Xanna calls the small Personnel team who came with her on the private Vongola plane –who are staying in a local Vongola safe-house– and orders them to acquire and pack up everything in town belonging or pertaining to Tsunayoshi Sawada –birth certificates, school records and medical data included– then heads out to the school herself, paperwork in hand, to withdraw him.

While Iemitsu's wife would probably make an excellent pet owner, she is entirely unsuited to motherhood. Children require far more emotional engagement and support than pets.

* * *

Xanna finds out that it is Tsunayoshi's seventh birthday tomorrow while dealing with the school staff; she is not impressed. Okay, she is still struggling to keep the names of all twenty-three Vittore straight, but she does know when their birthdays are and has them highlighted on the calendar and in her diary! She's not even been parenting for a year and she knows that much!

She also notices that Natsuki has somehow managed to bring himself along to Tsuna's classes without any adult realising he shouldn't be there –which is impressively subtle when Natsuki's usual illusory fare runs to giant spiders and bleeding walls– and is making sure that everybody knows the little Sky is very off-limits to would-be bullies. Tsuna looks like he can't quite believe this is happening, but he's happily snuggled between her ward and the sushi chef's son and really trying to pay attention to the lesson.

He's not managing very well. Xanna can tell just looking at him through the classroom window. She even knows why: Activating Flames changes the body's entire equilibrium, enveloping every cell and process and immediately integrating in them. Suddenly the body becomes aware of new resources to draw on and new opportunities to seize, which is the reason young Actives hit puberty earlier: the body effectively goes 'hooray extra energy!' and kicks into high gear even if their diet and physical condition are poor enough to otherwise stunt or delay development.

Cutting off those resources when the body is constantly reaching for them would leave a person off-balance, unable to right themselves and readjust because part of them _knows_ there's something there. So Tsuna's brain is reaching for his Flames to refine his focus, but can't get through. His muscles, bones and other tissues are reaching for his Flames to stabilise and encourage growth, but they aren't there. Tsunayoshi can't think clearly, can't move properly, can't articulate why and is shunned by his peers for being so difficult to interact with. He was not so seamlessly integrated with his Flames that the sudden loss killed him –like it would probably kill her if she were sealed now– but it is still a crippling injury that will never heal fully. Especially since the sealing took place so young that even his brain was still developing, so it will have knock-on effects on both his physical and mental health later if it isn't removed. Maybe even if it is.

This is quite possibly the cruellest thing Ninth has ever done, including hiring a rapist to tutor her and telling her Sky to his face that he didn't want him to ever inherit.

Can sealing be removed? It should be possible; anything made can be unmade and all it is really is a blockage. Wrath Flames should work just fine to disintegrate it and after that all that's left to do is provide a child psychologist to guide him through the grieving process so he can recover. Oh, and lots and lots of emotional support, of course.

Will infusing his body with Flames borrowed from her own Sky help? It's worth trying at least, to see if there's an improvement in Tsuna's general health. Or maybe not; she'll mention it to the medics when they get home and see what they think first.

* * *

Leaving proves unexpectedly challenging, if not from the directions she is expecting.

"But, but Takeshi's my friend now! I c-can't leave him!" Tsuna bursts out, eyes wide.

"Eh, you'll come back soon though, won't you Tsuna?" Takeshi says brightly, his cheerful façade not quite hiding his hurt and longing.

All three children –and Yamamoto-san– look at her, very different expressions on each face. Natsuki clearly wants her to say that they are never coming back, so he can get his new best friend away from all the petty children and indifferent adults making his life hell. Tsuna is pleading but also resigned, like he knows she's going to do what she wants and he has no say but would like his preferences to be taken into account; just this one time, please? Takeshi is expecting to be disappointed but putting on a brave face so as not to upset his new friend. Yamamoto Tsuyoshi on the other hand… that is very definitely a hitman face; possibly even an assassin face but either way, professional of the kind she sees far too much of in her daily life.

He sees her looking and glances pointedly down at her hands, where the Vongola Guardian ring is prominently displayed. Ah. So he Knows. Well in that case…

Xanna crouches down so she can look the kids in the eye, holds out her left hand and calls on her Flames so they crackle and fizz over her fingers. "These are something common in our family line, Tsuna-kun," she tells him seriously, "but once they surface they need training. You have them, but your father was keeping you a secret from the family so rather than arrange for a tutor he made it so you couldn't use them anymore. That hurt you and is why you struggle with everything now. I am here to take you home with me, so you can be healed and taught."

"Papa made me no-good?" Tsuna's eyes fill with tears. "But, but I've never done anything green and sparkly!"

Xanna lets her Flames snuff out. "Yours would look like my fiancé's, not like mine," she says gently, "and be more like this." She switches hands and calls the faint thread of Sky flowing through her engagement ring into prominence. The fierce orange bloom around her fingers is intensely comforting.

Tsuna grabs her hand; Xanna lets him, smiling at the awe in his eyes as tears of joy streak his cheeks unnoticed.

"It's like when I fell out of the tree," he whispers. Yes, very definitely an Active Sky then.

"If you want to come back once you've recovered and learned the basics, we can arrange that," Xanna tells the little boy, "but it might take years. You might not want to come back after years and will probably have lots of new friends."

"How do you do that, Kusanna-san?" Takeshi asks, face cheerful but fierce calculation roiling underneath.

"You want them," Natsuki says instantly, calling up a handful of indigo to demonstrate. "You have to want something so badly you don't care that it might kill you, you _have_ to have it."

"Huh." Xanna has a split-second to take in Yamamoto-san's flash of panic and then Takeshi has watery blue sliding over his fingertips. "Oh, like this, then."

"What did you want, Takeshi-kun?" Xanna asks, tilting her head on one side.

The seven-year-old grins at her. "To stay with Tsuna!"

This child is not normal. No normal child does this. This is Squalo-level focus and obsession; her fellow Guardian and this smiling boy are cut from the same cloth. She's been Squalo's designated adult for years now and she knows only too well that this level of focus and obsession is cause for concern: the teenager cut off his own hand on what was essentially a whim! That same dangerous focus is alarming to see in a seven-year-old, one raised in a household with at least one caring and involved parent.

"Yamamoto-san, your son's education is entirely at your discretion, but if you are willing I am happy to contact my fiancé so proper formal terms and a contract can be arranged through our legal department." Because otherwise the kid is going to stow away to Italy or something and she doesn't want to deal with the fallout of _that_.

"And what is your fiancé's name, Xanna-san?" He knows. He just wants her to say it.

"He is Vongola. Xanxus Vongola." Ah, so not the Vongola he was expecting; interesting. Xanna has to wonder what the rumours are like in the Underworld right now. She's probably outpaced the news of the new Don Vongola's instatement, but Xanxus has been recognised as the official Heir for a year now.

"Kusan Kusu?" Tsuna hazards, forehead furrowed as he struggles with the pronunciation.

"It's _Xanxus_ ," Natsuki says, enunciating clearly.

"Kusankusūssu?" There is no 'x' sound in Japanese, nor do words usually end with the letter 's'; the Italian 'x' is especially challenging, as it is pronounced 'ks' rather than the English way, which is more of a 'z'.

"Better," Xanna tells the tiny boy still clutching at her Sky-Flame-covered hand. "I have all your things packed up, so we can leave once you're ready."

Takeshi turns around and stares pleadingly up at his father, fingertips still gleaming blue. "Dad, please?"

"Is this really what you want, Takeshi-kun?" Yamamoto san asks gently, ruffling his son's hair.

"More than baseball," the seven-year-old says fervently.

"He can come home for school holidays," Xanna says helpfully, "and for part of the summer. You get veto on when he starts certain kinds of training too." Yamamoto-san clearly has Underworld experience, so involving him in his son's education will not break Omertà.

"I would appreciate you getting in touch with your legal department then, Xanna-san," the sushi chef says, looking tired and a little sad. "If he ever shows an interest in learning the sword, I want him to come home immediately and learn the family style."

"That can be arranged," Xanna agrees. "I'll call Legal and have them send over a lawyer specialising in guardianship and training contracts." This is not the first time parents have fostered their children with Vongola heirs and it won't be the last.

"Thanks Dad!" Takeshi says, the Flames on his fingers snuffing out as he hugs his father. "Tsuna, come help me pack!"

* * *

"Pretty sure I sent you to get one kid." Her Sky knows exactly why she has an extra; it's not like he'd have ever let anybody leave her behind if he'd had to change countries as a child.

"He Activated his Flames so as not to be left behind." Xanna is still feeling shaken by that, even fifteen hours later. Not normal child behaviour. Was Squalo like this as a small child? This intensely motivated?

Xanxus raises an eyebrow at the faintly snoring brunet slung over her left shoulder before his eyes drift back to the much smaller boy balanced on her opposite hip, also asleep. Natsuki was awake when they arrived at the airport so he went straight back to the Varia to tell his family all about their new 'cousin'. The two Japanese boys however are dead to the world, so Xanna is carrying them.

"He's tiny."

"Think it's the seal."

"Hm." Another pause. "Sawada's wife is fucking blind."

"None so blind as those who will not see." Nana Sawada lives in a perfect dream world of happily-ever-after that is going to come crashing down the instant her husband dies. While she is due a small pension as a Vongola widow, it's not enough to live off as it's a supplement, not a full income like the medical leave payments are. She's going to have to get a job, provided she actually manages to stay sane after having her delusions shattered.

"Signed him over?"

Xanna makes a face. "If I hadn't been there to make her sign she'd have left without telling anybody. Left her six-year-old son at elementary school, to come home to an empty house and a note on the day before his birthday; she didn't even warn the neighbours."

A muscle in her Sky's temple twitches. "Fuck that." Oh good, they're keeping him.

"Well, look at that, you've got an Heir," Xanna says mildly. "Quick work Boss; it's not even been a week."

Xanxus snorts. "Varia Medical, pixie; don't want his mother seeing him. We're going to make her forget." Oh good, they are doing this properly then. They won't make Sawada-san forget until it's time for her to leave though, as otherwise there's a risk of Tsuna running into her and not being recognised. Tsuna is going to suffer that loss anyway but there's no need to make it worse for him; his estranged father is all but dead and his mother has already abandoned him in favour of a delusion.

Well, he's got friends beside him at least. That's something. And Xanxus knows what it's like to be dumped on strangers by the only parent you've ever known, so he will be sympathetic; more sympathetic than Ninth ever was.

"Orders?"

"Get a Mist to teach them both Italian and let them sleep off their jetlag in Medical; kid doesn't need to be awake for the tests."

"It's Tsuna's birthday tomorrow," she reminds him.

"Tell Housekeeping; they'll fix up cake for the brats." Meaning the Vittore; this will probably be Tsuna's rowdiest ever birthday party. "Tyrant's arranged a room on the kiddie floor."

Xanna leans in for a quick kiss. "Come home soon, crow." The Iron Fort isn't home anymore and is unlikely to become home again for a good long while.

"I promise, pixie."

* * *

The seal proves a trial to remove, even with Xanxus using his Wrath on it, but it's only been there a year so it's not as 'set' as it might be. Another year and they would have to chip away at it gradually over several months or risk crippling Tsuna permanently.

Xanxus takes the time to go and shout at Ninth in between the various sessions and failures, Pýř ambling along behind. Xanna isn't sure what the Cloud's deal is there.

Of course, getting the seal off is only the beginning: Tsuna is then beset by everything the seal was impeding –including all his stronger emotions as Flames respond to those– and has a massive flaming tantrum. Xanxus drags him down to one of the reinforced training rooms and locks them both in; Xanna leaves the Skies to it and explains the finer details to Natsuki and Takeshi, who both promise to be supportive. The two older boys are likely plotting terrible retribution as well, but she has no objections to that. Ninth and his Guardians could use the workout.

The 'new' Tsuna is much more assertive, much more perceptive and has really terrible emotional control, bursting into Flames regularly. Nobody in the Varia cares; several new betting pools open, Xanxus sets aside half an hour morning and evening to train with his new 'son' and a good number of assassins start playfully trying to trap or poison him to see how perceptive he really is. Xanna assigns punishment duty every time she catches them at this, but that just makes them sneakier. It's all non-lethal –well Varia non-lethal adjusted for smaller bodies– but that doesn't mean it's not distressing for Tsuna when he gets caught.

Then again he's getting pretty good at setting people's hair on fire, which is strangely cute. Clearly the Varia have corrupted her; before she mainly considered Xanxus setting people on fire to be cathartic.

* * *

Iemitsu passes away just before lunch on the day after the winter solstice ball, which Xanna attended in a proper gown for the first time ever due to now being her Sky's fiancée and no longer having an excuse to wear trousers. All the attendees realise pretty quickly that this is significant and their engagement finally becomes public knowledge; there are lots of congratulations but a good number of mafia heiresses are very sulky over the whole thing. As though they ever had a chance.

Xanna suspects Sawada was murdered; she also has a pretty good idea of who did it. December twenty-second is Bel's birthday and he's young enough to not have to attend the ball. There is however no proof and it looks perfectly natural, so there is no investigation. Xanxus also does not care enough to investigate, partly due to the skinned and still gasping body that was on the bedroom floor when they woke up in the afternoon; Medical identified him as Guido Tramontano, who said something very rude at last night's ball and seems to have been overheard by someone who thought Don Vongola and his fiancée would appreciate his messy death and alerted the Varia.

Xanna doesn't know which assassin did it but is fairly sure it was a Cloud. She also suspects it was 'Tera who told them.

Sawada Nana falls apart, as predicted. She is vaguely holding it together to begin with and planning to take her husband 'home' for a proper Japanese funeral, which lasts until she finds out that her husband's parents are still alive and they are arranging the funeral, because her husband failed to tell anybody he was married and said parents are therefore the executors of his estate. Ietsuna Sawada and his wife Chiara Alliata live in Syracuse and will be burying their son there, in the plot they had bought for themselves in the local cemetery. They have had everything ready for nearly six months now. This news is very much the last straw for Sawada-san. Fortunately for everybody involved she has her break from reality in Vongola Medical, so nobody gets hurt. Not even her.

Tsuna is vaguely sad to hear about his father's death but not seriously upset; it turns out he barely knows the man. His mother's breakdown is far more upsetting, especially since he tries to visit her and sneaks into her room after getting turned away by the staff; she does recognise him but she's not interested in listening to him, babbling instead about her husband and how he's visiting her in hospital and brought her flowers.

Xanxus has to go dig Tsuna out of a remote corner of the Iron Fort's attic after that. Her fiancé then comes home early and spends an entire hour in bed cuddling her and talking quietly about his own mother and her delusions, and how it hurt so much to see her like that.

The most challenging part of Iemitsu Sawada's funeral is deciding if Tsuna should attend it and meet his paternal grandparents, as Iemitsu's split from his parents was over his involvement in organised crime. There is no way that Tsuna, as an Active Sky under the guardianship of Don Vongola, is ever going to be able to avoid organised crime. Besides, Xanxus is attached to the boy and Tsuna is attached right back. In the end they let him choose and Tsuna says no –has a screaming tantrum about 'not my father and I hate him he broke me', in fact– so that is that.

Xanna does make a point of attending regardless, to notify Iemitsu's parents as to the existence of a daughter-in-law –and her mental breakdown– and a grandson. Family is family and they deserve to know. Even if Ietsuna Sawada refuses to contact them, his wife might write; the Alliata are an Alliance family after all. She also makes a note of where Iemitsu's grave is, so Tsuna can visit later to shout at the grave marker. The seven-year-old will need to talk to his father eventually so he can get past the trauma inflicted on him, but such things do take time.

* * *

Ninth dies suddenly right after New Year; Xanxus orders a Varia autopsy but it turns out to be entirely natural. Stress, apparently. Signora Vongola is devastated, but manages to turn her focus to her three still-living grandsons and her 'adorable little great-grandson', Tsuna. The old lady spoils the little boy and his Guardians outrageously; Natsuki's been getting sneakier lately, so Xanxus suspects his grandmother's Mist has been teaching the brat tricks.

Her Sky mourns his adoptive father irritably, drinking too much and brooding. Xanna manages to coax out of him that he feels responsible for the old man's death, having made a point to harry and pressure the former Don Vongola over all the various mistakes and oversights he's come across since becoming Tenth.

"Do you _want_ to have killed him?" she asks eventually.

The very long, introspective silence she gets in reply lingers uncomfortably.

"Yes."

Okay. Well then.

"Then you did. You acted to cause his death and he succumbed."

Xanxus kisses her gently, his mouth tasting of scotch. "Love you, pixie."

Xanna hopes that one day Xanxus may be able to better reconcile himself with the late Signor Vongola's memory, but for now this will do. He's no longer moody and irritable and that's something.

The morning after this discussion Pýř wanders into the office and takes over the couch, sprawling along it and refusing to budge up so she can sit down and do her paperwork. Xanna's response to this blatant invasion of her space is to use him as a back rest, which he allows for some strange reason. He spends the entire day napping on her couch and occasionally ordering various victims to fetch him food; Xanna ignores the utterly out-of-character behaviour in favour of actual work.

The Cloud Officer is back to normal the next day, although clearly something major has happened. Well, if he wants her to know, he'll tell her. Well, that or let Maínomai know it's not a secret, then sic his partner on her for a few hours chit-chat.

* * *

Vongola Ninth's funeral is a zoo. Almost literally: all of the various people from vastly different backgrounds who come to pay their respects –or to metaphorically spit on his grave– have to be sensitively and firmly segregated so no fights start. Xanxus deals with this by putting Tyrant in charge of greeting guests at the door of the church and showing people to their seats; the Head of Varia Housekeeping has a knack for getting vastly disparate people to settle down and behave themselves. Actual seating arrangements are dealt with by more politically-minded people.

Generally Tyrant gets people to behave by inspiring abject terror, but it works. People terrified into compliance are very biddable. Her Sky is still casting around for a new head of security for the Iron Fort and has decided that there needs to be a separate Housekeeping division for the Iron Fort and other Vongola residences; preferably a network of divisions each capable of running their designated residence with minimal oversight. Having one person be responsible for all of the Vongola residential properties is just too much work, even with a legion of able minions.

Xanna is not really interested in the funeral. She is disappointed that Signor Vongola died before facing up to all of the many mistakes he made bringing up Xanxus, but quite honestly most of what she feels is relief. His good intentions and baseless suspicions are no longer likely to kill her. She does have to attend the funeral –in a black skirt, unfortunately– but she's not going to miss him.

Mostly she feels for his Guardians who are left bereft of their Sky and for Signora Vongola, Massimo and Federico, who have lost a close and beloved family member. She also feels for her own Sky, who misses his adoptive father despite still being vindictively pleased by the old man's demise.

Emotions are neither easy nor straightforward.

Having to accept everybody's condolences –heartfelt or otherwise– on the behalf of the family is the part of the process her Sky dislikes most, despite refusing to allow his grandmother or siblings to do it. He is probably motivated by a mix of politics and practicality there: he is Tenth after all, so he should do it, and he is also the person least upset by the death so is least likely to lose control of his emotions.

Once the whole circus is over with and Signor Vongola is interred in the Vongola family crypt, Xanxus holes himself up in his workshop at the Varia for forty-eight hours, stumbles out to crash in bed for ten hours, then moves to the couch and naps intermittently, forcing Xanna to sit at his desk in order to get any work done.

Most of her work right now is mission approval triage, in that she vets all the requests she has clearance for –all of them as of Xanxus's ascent to Don Vongola– and either authorises them based on extant intelligence or sends down requests to Information for more data. Most of Information's data comes in through an extensive network of personal contacts spanning Europe, North America, Africa and the Middle East, occasionally by phone but mainly by fax, post and the occasional face-to-face meeting. Fax is currently the communication method of choice, but Xanna is sure it will be overtaken by email in about five years. Although mobile phones will be getting big around then too…

She has mentioned portable wireless phones to R&D as a worthwhile investment to pursue, along with small, long-life rechargeable batteries. Hopefully they are up to the challenge and will produce results in good time. She misses having a mobile phone and they would prevent communication delays like the one that occurred the evening Pýř killed the Estraneo and picked up the Vittore, when Xanxus was elsewhere and out of contact for nearly eight hours.

Xanna is most of the way through the paperwork when the phone rings.

"Lightning Officer speaking." Anybody who's got this far already knows they've called the Varia, having talked their way past whoever in Information is manning the switchboard downstairs.

"Madam Guardian, this is Dr Grillo from Medical," meaning Vongola Medical, "as Signora Sawada has attempted suicide."

Of all the selfish–! "Attempted, not succeeded?"

A sigh. "Not yet. She used the reduced staffing around the funeral to steal painkillers and overdose," the doctor on the other end says irritably, "on enough paracetamol to destroy her liver, which is currently ongoing and will prove fatal within the next two days without Flame therapy."

"Which I or Don Vongola must authorise." Joy. Signora Sawada probably overdosed during or shortly after the funeral, nearly three days ago now, so without immediate Flame intervention she will likely die within the next twenty-four hours. Xanna considers her options, glancing over at the couch where her Sky is sprawled, dead to the world and looking very young indeed, face soft and Flames rippling gently.

"How is her state of mind?"

"During diagnosis she was demanding we call her husband when not babbling delusionally about him having recently visited her," the doctor states, tone sliding into dry, factual recitation, "but once we diagnosed the issue and confronted her she became defiant, insisting she had to do it, because we were keeping her from her husband."

"Implying that the suicide attempt was carried out in a lucid moment." Damn and double damn.

"Indeed, although that admission was the first and last lucid episode anybody has seen first-hand; our awareness of prior ones is due to them having been caught on camera. Every other time somebody has been in the room with her she has refused to acknowledge reality."

"No mention of or request to see her son?" They haven't tampered with her mind yet; it was going to happen after the funeral, to ensure she would leave and not return, but Sawada-san snapped before the funeral was even arranged and was not able to attend it at all due to her dubious mental health.

The doctor huffs. "Not anymore; her delusions have narrowed considerably in the past six weeks. She appears to have blanked him out completely so as to focus fully on her husband; she seems to think they married just a year or so ago."

"Is psychological recovery likely?" Which is a terrible question to ask but still needs asking.

"No. She has a broken Guardian bond and was diagnosed as being actively delusional even before her husband's death. As a weak Mist with underlying Sky tendencies and little Will to speak of, Signora Sawada would need Guardians or another Sky to pull her fully out of her breakdown, but she has completely cut herself off and refuses to interact. The underlying bond with her son has also been severed."

Xanna sighs. She hates these kinds of decisions; there is no right path to take. "Flame treatment is not authorised, as she is likely to reject it and seriously harm the Medic administering it," she says firmly. Difficult detail work, especially in a medical context where so much can go wrong, leaves the practitioner vulnerable to attack. Any disruption from the patient is particularly damaging, hence why consent is so very necessary for Flame-induced healing and why she will not risk the life of one of her Sky's people to try and counter the selfishness of an outsider. "Ensure she is kept as comfortable as possible and keep me posted of her condition."

"By your command, Lightning Guardian." The doctor hangs up.

Xanna puts the phone down, glances at the couch and sighs heavily. She knows nothing at all about Japanese funerals.

Suicide is not a crime in Italy anymore, but it is still considered a sin by the Catholic Church and stigmatised. That Signora Sawada is currently mentally incompetent does diminish the stigma on herself and her family though, so it may be possible to bury her Catholic-style alongside her husband.

She is going to have to tell Tsuna about this. Immediately, as rumour travels fast in the Vongola and Natsuki is probably keeping an eye on Signora Sawada for his Sky's sake. Getting up, Xanna walks over to the couch and sits on her Sky's lap, idly tracing her fingertips across his face and neck.

"Crow?"

He does not even stir. Rolling her eyes she gets off him and flares her Flames sharply.

Xanxus is on his feet, Wrath crackling across his fingers, before even opening his eyes. "Pixie?" he slurs.

"Tsuna's mother deliberately overdosed on paracetamol," she tells him flatly. "I decided against risking the medics, as she is not in any fit state to consent to treatment."

"Dead?"

"Not yet; probably within the day." This is so frustrating. "The doctor says she has forgotten she even has a son. By herself."

Xanxus sags. "Shit." He rubs his eyes. "I'll tell the brat."

"Now?"

"Yeah."

"Want me?"

Her fiancé leers slyly at her. "Always. Best not have an audience for this though." Privacy, as much for Xanxus's sake as for Tsuna's; this mess has already dragged all of Xanxus's own maternal issues to the fore and now he has to deal with them all over again. Elena Marino's death may well have been accidental, but then again it might not have; drug overdoses are ambiguous like that.

"I'll be training." She can't stay in this office a moment longer.

"Catch you later." He kisses her sweetly and walks out. Xanna follows him through the door; she's in uniform after all and doesn't need to change before heading down to the training rooms.

* * *

By February Xanna is sick and tired of funerals; Nougat and Ganauche followed their Sky into death within a fortnight of Ninth being buried, Nougat five days later and Ganauche twelve. Admittedly their doing so distracted the entire Vongola from noticing the death of Tsuna's mother –and enabled Mammon to arrange a small, private funeral in Syracuse– but it's already been a terrible year and they're barely a month in.

However around the tenth of February things get a bit… odd.

"Xanna?"

She pauses in the hallway –she is ferrying paperwork to and from the Iron Fort for her Sky, who is currently leading a Varia mission– to glance at Federico Vongola, who just addressed her.

"Yes?"

The thirty-five-year-old shifts uneasily, facial expression a tangle of contracting emotions. Around him his Guardians are all stoically looking anywhere except at her or their Sky. This is new. Is that embarrassment on their faces?

"Can we talk?" Federico asks hopefully.

Xanna glances around, takes a few steps back and pulls open the door to a small study. "Certainly."

She sits on the desk –casually dropping her jacket over the paperwork– rather than in the chair behind it; Federico leans against it on the other side from the paperwork as his Guardians spread out, two staying in the hall to 'guard the door' and the others slumping against the bookcases along the far wall or perching on the windowsill.

"So talk," she urges.

Federico stares at his hands, then glances sideways at her face. "Why did you say yes when my brother proposed?"

Xanna stiffens, eyes narrowing. She does not get the impression he means that how it sounds. "Are you implying I shouldn't have?" she demands.

"No! Not at all!" Federico waves his hands frantically, eyes wide. "God no! He's crazy about you and you balance him out perfectly! I, just, generally? I don't know? Why do women agree to marry men? What does it take?"

Relationship advice. A man fifteen years her senior is asking her for relationship advice. How is this her life? "Well, the woman lusting after you helps, as lust alters a person's perception of reality," Xanna says dryly, "but beyond that, a woman wants a man to treat her as an equal partner in their relationship, seeking her opinions and taking them into account. Not somebody who overrules her at every turn or disregards her feelings. Also somebody who makes an effort to communicate his own feelings rather than just expecting her to know; a woman does not want to be left with all the emotional heavy lifting in a relationship. A man who notices what she contributes and appreciates it, helping out as much as he can, is more likely to have his proposal accepted."

Federico looks puzzled. "Is that it?"

"You've never made unilateral relationship decisions without consulting your lover? Or just assumed that of course she'll have time for you when you want to see her regardless of her other commitments?" Xanna raises a sceptical eyebrow.

"Er…" So yes he has. Numerous times, even.

"Think of marriage as a long-term alliance between two families," she suggests. "Both parties need to feel they are benefitting equally at all times and clear lines of communication must be maintained to ensure that."

"What about love?" It's plaintive and almost a whine.

"Love is more than physical desire, Fede," Xanna tells him firmly. "Love is crawling out of bed after five hours sleep because the phone is ringing and your partner is crashed out at their desk despite promising to come to bed hours ago. Love is taking a deep breath and doing the things you hate because your partner is throwing up every hour and can barely stagger in a straight line but those things still need doing. Love is not blaming your partner when the kids interrupt while you're trying to have sex." She gropes for the right words. "Love isn't a feeling. Love is a discipline; something you do." She has done all these things and so has Xanxus.

"You love my brother." Fede is staring like he's never seen her before.

"Obviously." What kind of question is that?

"No, I mean… even when he was nine. Everything you ever did for him, every concession, every argument with Dad… that was you loving him. Giving him what he needed, no matter what it cost you."

"Yes." That's what love is. She promised to give him everything, which meant loving him. So she did it.

"Are you even physically interested in him?" Wow, rude.

"Now, yes." And that's all he needs to know.

"Since last January, maybe?" the older man teases her gently.

"Thereabouts," she agrees, then decides to tease back. "He's irresistible when he wants to be and knows me far too well."

"Ack! Don't tell me!" Federico dramatically averts his eyes. "Your tastes are definitely not my business!"

"Why ask the question then?"

"Well, you are older than him. Significantly older right now, really."

"I am three years older than him and although it's less of an advantage than it used to be, it's not going to go away for a while yet," she agrees dryly. "However he didn't want to wait that long and got Pantera to help him gang up on me."

"Your boyfriend was seeing your Sky in the side? That's why you broke it off?"

"We broke it off because Pantera has to marry to secure his family succession but I am never going to put anybody ahead of Xanxus," Xanna corrects tartly, "what with being his Guardian and all. But since the relationship was doomed he decided he may as well end it dramatically."

"A week-long three-way definitely counts as dramatic," Fede agrees with a grin. "You ever do that with Don Cavallone? I know you used to date."

"When I was dating Francesco Xanxus was _twelve_ ," Xanna retorts sharply.

"Sorry, sorry," Fede says in a placatory tone, hands raised in surrender, "Just, my little brother's always looked at you the same way, you know? Possessive and awed and gentle and determined all at once. And you've always shared a bed."

"I am not and have never been attracted to children," she tells the idiot flatly, "not even when I was one." Does he even hear himself?

"Sorry. I'm insensitive sometimes."

"Yes you are and you know better; you're thirty-five, take responsibility and choose your words more carefully."

Federico looks astounded at her rebuttal, then laughs. "Hell, you're right. Again. Sorry."

"So who's the lady who inspired this conversation?" Xanna asks, changing the subject.

He beams. "It's Aria, the new Donna Giglio Nero. She's perfection incarnate." He is visibly besotted and it's very amusing. That name though…

"Isn't she the Sky Arcobaleno?" The first name she has only heard in conjunction with her friends' gossip but the surname is ringing a bell in the back of her mind as well as bringing up a load of old contract negotiations from the archives, some of them dating back to the Vongola's founding. She's also pretty sure Aria is barely older than she is…

"Yes? So?"

"You do know that Curse kills Skies young?"

"What?" Federico's eyes harden instantly and his entire demeanour changes in an instant. "Talk."

Xanna huffs. "Arcobaleno Curse. Elements permanently reduced to toddlers, the Skies die young. It's a Curse, so the whole thing is likely a death sentence for all of them as nowhere have I heard or read of a former Arcobaleno; what I don't know is who or why. Curses –the effective ones– need a strong emotional component and a lot of power to inflict successfully, and the Arcobaleno were supposedly the strongest of their respective Flame-types when they were cursed." A Curse of this magnitude would take effort. Tremendous effort; why do it at all?

Federico scowls, eyes flicking as he thinks. "Never thought about it that way," he muses absently, getting to his feet. "Think I'll look into it."

"Maybe consult Talbot?" Xanna suggests as he heads towards the door. "Those pacifiers might be Flame Tech of some kind and he's old enough to have forgotten more than we've got documentation for."

"Will do," Federico agrees as his Guardians fall in around him and he opens the door. "Thanks Xanna; that helps."

"You're welcome." Maybe he'll find a way to end the Arcobaleno Curse so Tsuna doesn't get tapped for it next time around, like he did in the story she vaguely remembers.

* * *

Xanna stares at the invitation that was mixed up in the rest of the official correspondence addressed to her personally. Now Xanxus is Don Vongola she gets quite a bit of mail, due to being her Sky's most visible and longstanding Guardian. Possibly also because she is a woman so people assume she's easily manipulated.

She isn't. She is also now capable of perceiving lies in handwritten correspondence as well as in person. Thankfully the mafia is paranoid and ostentatious enough that handwritten letters are still preferred to typing for both personal and business correspondence.

This invitation however… this is new. Not because it is an invitation, but in terms of who it is from and why it is addressed to her. It's from Donna Giuliana, Don Superbi's wife, inviting her –as Don Vongola's fiancée– to socialise with other wives of Dons, Heads and underbosses of the Vongola Alliance. Possibly some female underbosses and Heads too, and maybe a few sisters and daughters of Dons.

Xanna recognises that she is a very unconventional Donna-to-be. She is not part of the Vongola Alliance by birth or upbringing –not really– yet she is firmly embedded in the upper echelons of the Alliance's power structure. She does not even come from an Alliance family or extended family and lacks any connections save those she has made for herself. She doesn't even have an older relative to set up her side of the wedding for her; Signora Vongola is arranging all of it for both of them.

If Ninth had fostered her into his family the way Signora Vongola did with numerous war-orphans during her tenure as Eighth, Xanxus and Xanna would have been treated as siblings. They might even have considered themselves to be siblings. That did not happen though.

"Crow?"

"Yes, pixie?"

"I'm invited to what looks like the Vongola Alliance's answer to Varia Ladies Evening." Which is fully deserving of all those capital letters. Lussuria attends it sometimes, depending on how they feel about their gender on the day. Xanna's getting better at noticing when it's a 'he' day or a 'she' day, despite Luss's dress-sense and general flamboyance not changing a jot.

"What is the question?" her Sky asks patiently.

"What should I wear?" All her clothes are 'Guardian' clothes, not 'fiancée' clothes. She has no idea what is going to be expected of her once she's Donna Vongola and that bothers her now she's noticed the deficiency.

Xanxus puts his pen down and gazes at her thoughtfully. "Pixie, what do you like wearing?" he asks.

"The uniform," she replies instantly. She may not be an assassin but she is Varia Quality and has every right to dress accordingly. She has earned it. Plus it is comfy and armoured, both of which are far better for her peace of mind than delicate fabric and fashionably confining tailoring.

"Then wear it," her Sky says simply. "You are my Guardian and my Officer; you don't have to wear anything you are uncomfortable with, not ever."

"Thank-you." Clothing gets extremely performative among the rich and well-connected, so knowing her Sky and fiancé will defend her right to dress as she pleases is reassuring. He's been wearing the new Varia kilt lately, which has been interesting for everybody. The view is very attractive though and she definitely appreciates it.

"Told Grandma you want an orange dress," Xanxus adds, picking up his pen again. "She's arranging it but you need to talk designs."

"Can't she talk to Luss?" Xanna grumbles, setting the invite aside and moving onto the next letter. "He knows my size, understands the importance of mobility, how to cut things accordingly and what suits me." Lussuria has impeccable if slightly eccentric tastes.

"Your fitting, you go," her fiancé tells her firmly. "Take Luss if you like." He pauses, "and pick your maids of honour."

"I have picked; who's going to be best man?" She's asked the Varia Ladies and most of her school-friends, since she needs a large retinue.

Xanxus smirks. "Francesco."

Don Cavallone; politically astute and somebody her fiancé honestly considers a close friend, which is nice when you can get it. "I take it the other Heirs your age are going to be walking my retinue down the aisle?" Along with her Sky's other Guardians, of course.

"Heirs and a few younger Dons," Xanxus agrees. "Who's giving you away?"

"Tesla." She hunted him down specially, since he's the person who made her Varia in the first place.

"Nice."

"Thanks." Tyrant has also involved himself in wedding planning, which will ensure every single Varia guest will be on their very best behaviour. Oddly enough, the way things have ended up the Varia were the first people to take her in on her own merits and make her one of them, so they're more her family than anyone else. Other than Xanxus of course, but he's a person not a collective.

"Give Grandma the names," her fiancé adds, meaning the names of her maids of honour, "and make a decision on shoes."

"I'll talk to the cobbler." The Varia patronises a specialist bootmaker and Xanna wants properly comfortable and Flame-proof footwear for her wedding, just in case.

"How's Tsuna?" She's not seen him around much lately.

"Unhappy," Xanxus says succinctly. "Better."

In other words, mourning but not wallowing and mostly coping. Good.

"Got suck-ups wanting to foster their kids with him," her Sky adds.

Tsuna is vanishingly unlikely to become Eleventh but he is a Sky and a Vongola, so he will probably find a place for himself in the Alliance's infrastructure once he's grown. He's also got two Guardians already, which makes him a catch for ambitious Mafiosi wanting their family to get ahead: he's capable of bonding and inclined towards doing so and they want him to do so with their kids.

"Make it my problem," Xanna suggests. "I'm your fiancée and technically responsible for the other fosterlings, so that's precedent."

"Sure?"

"I did diplomatic track too," she reminds him dryly, "and this way we can start working towards dismantling the horror show that is Alliance Lightning training."

"Groundwork," her Sky muses pensively, "point." He sighs. "Need better Varia Lightnings."

"Tell Pýř to help me for a few days and we can find some smart Latents at the Academy who are willing to take on a short career in homicide before going into their dream job," Xanna tells him prosaically. "Then you can complain at a party to all the underbosses and Dons who promote the current training about how not one individual who went through that training has the Quality the Varia needs –we've had to re-educate all of them at some point or other– and the last two Lightning Officers have both been from civilian backgrounds. Possibly mention that you're thinking about finding a Latent or civilian to be Tsuna's Lightning Guardian, since none of the Actives his age match up to the standard I'm setting." It's not arrogance when it's true.

"Truth." Xanxus makes a note. "Next week?"

"Pýř's available then?"

"Gets back in day after tomorrow."

"I'll warn the school then." Not of the specific day they will visit, but that she will be in and around the Academy buildings about that time. No need to terrify the teachers and having leeway is useful.

* * *

The most annoying thing about vetting new fosterlings is that very few girls are being offered. The Visconti are offering girls because they don't have any boys both younger than eighteen and older than two, the Superbi are offering as many girls as boys because Pantera knows her very well and likely suggested it to his father, and the Scarlatti are offering their fourteen-year-old heiress because Don Scarlatti is playing the long game and hoping Tsuna will emulate Xanxus by marrying an older woman he grew up with.

Xanna is definitely taking Alessia Scarlatti regardless. There's potential in that girl that won't blossom unless encouraged. She's also accepting Don Bianchi's civilian-raised son –his bastard son, not that he's ever going to admit to that outright– but that's more to do with the rumours of Don Bianchi letting his pre-teen daughter poison the younger boy to make his piano recitals 'more modern' and Xanna finding that objectionable.

She has an office in the Iron Fort now that Xanxus is finally satisfied with the new security; it has two sofas facing each-other over a coffee table taking up most of the floor space, with the desk and chair shoved towards the back of the room like an afterthought.

There is yet to be a single day without some Varia or other napping on one of those sofas. Usually a Lightning, but occasional Rains, Clouds and the odd Mist have taken a turn too. Snoozing assassins have made some of her meetings a little awkward, but nobody barges in demanding things anymore. Not because threats were made, but due to the 'napping' assassin asking things like, 'are you going to skin this one, Officer?' or, 'can I watch you feed them their own entrails, please Officer?' which have done interesting things to her reputation. Varia slang and double-speak have turned a verbal dressing-down and disgusting scut-work punishments into threats and the faces other people make are so amusing.

Her decision to stick with the Varia uniform rather than 'dress in a manner befitting a lady' has added another dimension to that reputation. That she is also well-known as being the primary maternal figure to the two-dozen children in her Sky's care has only confused the gossips further.

Currently she is being deplored as butch, frigid, neglectful and unfeminine and in the next breath accused of being too soft on the children in her care, coddling them, being overly emotional and both smothering them and letting them run wild. She has to laugh. Her legion of pre-teen supporters are however less forgiving, as are her old school-friends; according to Emanuela a hostile takeover of the gossip circuit is already underway.

Xanxus's only comment –when not staring down the gossips with glowing eyes until they lose their nerve and flee– is to state that she balances him, which at least sends the conversations in new and interesting directions.

There's a knock at the door; Xanna glances at the assassins 'sleeping' on her sofa –well Tetro is on it but Arcigno is sprawled under it on the carpet– and goes to see who it is.

It's a relative stranger; Xanna's seen him from a distance in the Iron Fort a time or two and knows he's getting Flame-training –a lot of the smaller families send Actives to Don Vongola for that as they don't have the numbers to manage it at home or in the hope their kid might become a Guardian– but she doesn't know anything about him. He looks to be in between her and Xanxus in age, so they wouldn't have had many opportunities to interact with him at school either. She doesn't even know what track he's in or if he's graduated yet.

"Hi, I'm Lorenzo Esposito, officially a Lightning," he says cheerfully, feeling as much like a Sun as a Lightning to her Flame senses. "I'm here about a job."

Xanna lets him in, waves him onto the free sofa and sits herself down in the triangle of free space by Tetro's hip. "Which job in particular?" He's being truthful but elliptic, which is unexpected in a Vongola-trained Lightning considering the usual educational standard.

"I want to teach," Lorenzo says immediately. "The only reason my Flame-training was even half-decent was due to you kicking up a three-month stink over methods and abusive behaviour then publically making it known you considered Varia assassins to be better suited to teaching than the Vongola tutors. There was a crackdown after that, but training is still pretty crappy. I want to go to a proper teaching college next year –in France or Germany preferably– then get approved as a Flame tutor for little Lightnings."

"That's sponsorship, not a job," Xanna points out.

"I want to work for you," Lorenzo replies bluntly, eyes bright and intense under his fashionably spiky two-tone hair. "You understand, and if I work for you the kids' families can't fire me because I want to do things non-traditionally." He takes a quick breath. "And, well, I want to teach regular stuff as well as Flames. That's why I entered social track in the first place."

He's honest, which is nice. Honesty is very persuasive. Still…

"What aren't you telling me?" Because there is something he's hiding.

"Ninth picked me for Lightning training over Sun training despite my being half-and-half and initially intended for the latter because he wanted me to replace you," Lorenzo admits quietly. "Took me a while to notice. Made a point to avoid interacting with either of you after that, up until Tenth was instated."

She is not surprised. Disappointed in the late Signor Vongola, but not surprised. "I will take you on as a supervisor for my kids," Xanna decides. "Every day after school –unless you attend after school activities? No, okay– until six in the evenings, Monday to Friday. Then when you graduate in June we'll see where we are." He's in his last year of high school if he wants to attend a specialist college next year, so he's probably eighteen.

"Yes boss," Lorenzo says cheerfully. "When do I start?"

"Monday; give me your address and I'll get a contract to you by the weekend."

"Thanks boss!"

Xanna smiles, bright, toothy and threatening. "Meet the kids before thanking me." The Vittore were all hellions even before adopting Tsuna as their own and half of them are Active. They were always going to be a handful, but extensive encouragement from various Quality assassins has had indelible effects, even on Tsuna. She has a feeling that wherever the Vittore end up finding their place in the Vongola Alliance, Tsuna may well be among them. Possibly even as their Don; it's not like he's at all attached to his father's name.

* * *

She is in her Vongola office, Squalo and Dino on one sofa trying to explain the Risorgimento and its effects on the Vongola Alliance to Tsuna, Natsuki, Takeshi, Naomi and the newly-acquired Camillo Bianchi –if you can explain it then you know it, as she has told all the kids multiple times– while Sert snoozes on the other sofa, large headphones blocking out the chatter, when there is a commotion next door in her Sky's favourite Vongola office.

Xanna has a feeling it's his favourite office because it's next to hers; he often naps on her free sofa between meetings or pops in to flirt, discuss strategy and complain about certain stupid idiots with more greed than sense.

Sometimes he invades her office to coax her into indulging him in a spot of office sex, in which case the assassin on her sofa is generally evicted first. Generally. If it's a Lightning and they're napping face-down or lying under the couch then he may not bother. And he calls her an exhibitionist.

Xanna lost all concept of physical privacy in her early teens –an early casualty to sharing a bedroom with Xanxus and near-constant Mist surveillance– and has never regained it. Privacy is a social construct, people politely ignoring the things not relevant to them. Xanxus is more possessive and protective of her body than she is, but he too lacks any sense of shame or embarrassment over nudity or intimacy.

He's Don Vongola now; he's never going to get any genuine privacy ever again and he knows it. That however is not really relevant to the raised voices she can vaguely hear through the wall.

The sound isn't clear enough to pick out voices or words, but for them to still be shouting it's either a real moron or somebody her Sky knows well enough to not take offense at. Or possibly just somebody Xanxus feels has cause.

After a full minute passes without the shouter getting cut off Xanna decides on option number two with a side of three as well. Probably a friend or ally venting over an issue they want the Tenth to fix; not currently her problem.

The shouting stops; there are occasional instances of raised voices in the subsequent half-hour but they are momentary and quieter than the earlier unintelligible rant. Around her coffee table the history lesson plods on unimpeded.

"Colt."

Xanna looks up at her Sky standing in the doorway, his eyes on Dino Cavallone. Her fiancé is wearing that kilt again; the view is excellent.

"Tenth?" the teen asks, a little red in the face from the nickname.

"Boss?" Squalo inquires sharply.

"My office, colt," Xanxus drawls, walking into the room and lifting Dino to his feet, then right off his feet as the blond teenager stumbles. "Your brother wants a word."

Squalo relaxes at the implication that nothing is actually amiss, but Xanna is still baffled by what could possibly involve Dino and make Cesco shout at Xanxus like that.

"Crow?"

Her fiancé smiles as he manhandles Dino out of the door. "Just a social thing, pixie."

Okay, so really not a problem at all; likely a misunderstanding. But what–

The door is closed and Squalo has the kids' full attention, which is a good thing because her face is probably a picture.

Dino is sixteen now.

Back in the autumn, Lussuria told her very clearly that he was interested in pursuing the younger Cavallone.

Lussuria's tastes run to the kind of thing that is frequently misunderstood by outsiders, despite the emphasis on informed consent. Well, shit. She'd thought Luss had lost interest but clearly not.

"Squalo?"

"Hm?" He pauses in his explanation to glance her way, the kids following suit.

"Is Dino seeing anybody?"

The almost-sixteen-year-old frowns. "Not at school," he says firmly. "Might still be someone though." Squalo does not mention gender, which is telling in itself; regardless of the Vongola Tenth's scandalously liberal attitude to gender and sexuality most of the rest of the mafia is still profoundly homophobic. "You think the big horse found out?" There's an interesting nuance in Squalo's voice that changes when he means 'Cavallone' as a descriptor compared to when he means it as a proper surname.

"I think Xanxus is mediating," Xanna admits, careful not to say anything the kids listening attentively might repeat. "Francesco was always very conventional about dating." Her Sky on the other hand… not at all conventional. Athletes and intellectuals and artists, oh my… and that was just the girls. Although with boys it tended to be short, intense yet discreet relationships that usually settled into friendship right away afterwards, which were entirely unlike the long, thoughtful, public courtships her Sky engaged in when dating girls. She only ever found out about the boys long after the relationships were over.

Actually, the care he shows with women includes his courtship of her, which retrospectively has been very long and very well thought-out despite the apparently brief interval between them 'getting together' and him proposing.

Squalo snorts, bringing her back to the present. "Little horse will be fine then, you." Dino's even sillier and much more popular second nickname is her fault; she accidentally referred to him as 'cavalluccio' –little horse– to differentiate him from his brother, the 'big horse', as that is what their family name means. Of course the Varia love it –especially put together with poor Dino's enduring crush on her– so it has stuck. Xanxus prefers 'colt', but he's the only one and Squalo has taken to 'cavalluccio' with glee and refuses to call his friend anything else.

Dino grumbles and pouts, but he still answers to the ridiculous diminutive. Very possibly because it was her who came up with it; the '-uccio' suffix carries fondly affectionate connotations implying cuteness and attachment.

Of course cavallucci are also a kind of traditional spiced biscuit, so the nickname also means 'cookie'. Which is likely the reason the Varia all use it now; they all love terrible puns and this one is a doozy, what with Dino having a crush and her accidentally inflicting a cutesy pet name on him.

Squalo returns to his history homework, although he clearly has less tact, eloquence and patience for the questions from his pre-teen audience than his friend. Xanna in turn picks up her pen and goes back to reading reports. She has set a number of Varia to investigate the children being offered for fostering –mainly newbies with a veteran supervisor, making them milk-run missions– and the information provided in certain cases is rather interesting.

Definitely taking Don Scarlatti's daughter. She's a lot smarter than she lets on around people who might mention anything to her father.

* * *

"What did you say to Dino, crow?"

Her Sky's face is far too guileless to be honest. "Why are you asking, pixie?"

"He can't be in the same room as me without going bright red and tripping over his feet." Again. She'd hoped they were past this stage.

"He had questions." Questions Xanxus has clearly answered in cheerfully explicit detail. Probably obscenely explicit detail too.

"What kind of questions?"

Her fiancé grins. "Kink questions."

Her Sky knows quite a lot about 'the scene'. She does not; it's doesn't interest her. She knows enough to be able to discuss the basics intelligently, so was able –hopefully– to give him enough information to investigate for himself without getting hurt or hurting anyone else. He never came back to tell her she was wrong, so she must not have been. Incomplete yes definitely, but not wrong; she did warn him that she didn't know much though.

"So you broadened his horizons."

"Hmm." Her Sky is still grinning. Xanna does not trust that grin. "Pixie?"

"Yes, crow?"

"What are your feelings on voyeurism?"

"As the watcher or the watched?"

"Both."

"Watching someone in a private or intimate situation without their consent is a violation and therefore abusive," she replies promptly. "If the watched person is aware of their audience, or at least of the possibility of an audience, that's different."

"Would you?"

"I don't care about watching," she tells him bluntly, "Unless it's you, and then I really like watching you react to my reactions, which voyeurism doesn't really allow for." The voyeur is unseen or at least ignored. "As for being watched…" she pauses. "Depends."

"On what?" The grin is gone now as he's listening attentively and committing her responses to memory.

"How you feel about it, for one," Xanna points out, "since we're engaged. Who's watching for another; why they're watching is also a factor."

"Okay."

She eyeballs her fiancé dubiously. "You have a cunning plan."

"I have lots of cunning plans." So true. They work much better than Blackadder ones too.

"This one involves you being the exhibitionist you always accuse me of being." It is definitely not just her and she's not really an exhibitionist at all; she honestly doesn't care. Xanxus on the other hand gets a kick out of showing off what he is and has, which includes her.

He waggles a hand. "Just a little."

Xanna narrows her eyes at him. "Is this anything to do with your horror at the narrowness and uselessness of our sex-ed lessons up until the final year of diplomatic track?" Even those last lessons had been more comparative socio-cultural than practical; she remembers only finding out that sex was supposed to feel good the first time around from listening to her friends gossip happily about their boyfriends and reading trashy romance novels. While she was in her mid-teens. Not that she'd had any herself yet then, but still!

"Partly," her Sky concedes with a grimace. "I always knew what sex was. The kids only know about playground gossip and stolen porn." There is no way to prevent the Vittore from getting their hands on porn in the Varia, there is far too much of it floating around. Never mind the romance novels, which are even easier to get hold of and just as deceptive in their own way.

Xanna groans. "Recipe for disaster." The older ones are getting stuck into puberty now and this can only go wrong.

"Thought a practical demonstration might help," her Sky continues, "for the basics."

"Take the mystery out of it, you mean?" well, it might work…

"For bodies and pleasure, yes," he agrees, "but not for intercourse. Not until we've had some practice." The way his voice goes rich and velvety at the end of that sentence sends shivers up her spine.

"You could pay Mammon for some illusions there," she points out evenly.

"Point," her fiancé agrees, voice still dark and lush.

"But that's not your main reason for asking."

"No."

An open admission but no further explanation; Xanna replays the conversation thus far in her mind. "Is this Dino-related?"

"The little horse is smitten," Xanxus teases slyly. "Attracted to Luss too, but so very smitten."

"Why?" Not 'why is he smitten?', but 'why are you pondering Dino Cavallone and voyeurism in the same sentence?'

"He doesn't know what he wants," Xanxus tells her. "Won't think about it. Deliberately obtuse." He sounds a touch irritated.

"This is a shame thing, you know."

"It's pointless!"

"Yes and instilling shame in people is inherently unchristian," Xanna agrees, "but it's also very Catholic. There's a lot of money in shame." This is however not a productive topic of discussion as they've already rehashed it at least twenty times. "So you want to what? Forcibly exorcise his shame issues by getting him to recognise his tastes then make it clear they're perfectly acceptable so long as nobody actually gets hurt?"

Her fiancé side-eyes her. "I trust you," he says gently, "I always have. And now I'm older, I trust you more because you never took advantage. I know you won't hurt me. You don't want to hurt me so make a conscious effort not to."

There is no question in there so she doesn't see the point in answering.

"I know that you said you're not really into kink," her crow continues softly, "but if you were, I'd let you. More than I ever let Luss." There is more subtext there than she can grasp right now so it will have to wait.

"I don't mind experimenting a little," Xanna concedes, "but I'm not really bothered for me. I mean, being in control sometimes does appeal a little, but not to the extent some people take it."

"Wouldn't enjoy those extremes either," her fiancé agrees with a shrug.

"So you are considering giving Dino a show."

"Maybe." Xanxus shrugs again. "If he doesn't get his head out of his ass."

"Why us?" Why not random strangers in a club who already know what they like and are comfortable with it?

"Anybody else he'd just be embarrassed and awkward. You scramble his brain enough that he'd stop thinking about 'should' and be honest."

"You're worried about Luss, aren't you."

Her Sky shifts a little. "He's mine too. Not as resilient as he acts."

"You will have to set some more time aside if you want to experiment in the bedroom. Or the office," Xanna points out lightly. "But I really do enjoy making you unravel. New ways to do that are always welcome."

"You spoil me, pixie."

"Like you don't spoil me?"

"You've always been generous," her fiancé purrs, taking her hands in his. "Matching you is a challenge."

"You've always enjoyed challenges," she points out idly, toying with his fingers.

"Only the interesting ones." He smirks. "My infinitely fascinating and unusual pixie."

"Flatterer."

"Truth." He's not even lying; he really does think that.

"Hm." If she uses their ties to restrain his wrists and ankles and applies her Flames to Harden the silk, would that work? The ties are more Flame-conductive than strictly Flame-repelling after all…

* * *

While an unexpectedly large number of Varia have really taken to the kilt that Lussuria included in the latest uniform at Xanxus's instigation, Squalo is not one of them. He claims it's impractical –a lie– and looks terrible on him –an even more blatant lie– but not wearing it is his choice, so Xanna doesn't comment. It's not as though she wears it that often either.

Squalo is the oldest of her 'kids' and sixteen today, although he would probably argue that he doesn't count, being a Varia assassin. Thing is, he really is the first of her haphazard brood of mafia children; she's still his technical guardian after all and has been for over two years now. Bel she picked up later and actually sees less of, as the ten-year-old spends most of his time with Sekti and only seeks her out when he wants physical affection.

She has woken up more than once to find a bony pre-teen in a tiara has snuck into bed with her, much to her Sky's amusement and annoyance. Not that Xanxus has ever let invading children dissuade him from kissing her.

Squalo is also tricky to shop for. What _do_ you buy for a teenage assassin obsessed with swordsmanship? Last year she copped out with a cheque –she'd been up to her ears in the Vittore and exhausted– but this year she got in early, bought silence and complicity from one of Varia Housekeeping's blade-smiths and commissioned a large set of ludicrous fantasy knives that actually work as weapons. Curvy shapes, serrations, barbs, weird angles and all; using them effectively will take practice and experimentation but they are all sharp, sturdy and well-made.

If nothing else they'll amuse Squalo, which is good enough.

"Here, happy birthday." She tosses the heavy fabric roll containing the sheathed blades at her fellow Guardian's head as he walks into the suite office after school.

"Oi!" Squalo complains, catching it before it can bash him in the face. "What's this?"

"Your birthday present," Xanna tells him dryly. "I went a bit overboard this year to make up for not really planning ahead properly last year. Besides, well, you're sixteen now." She does not mention that sixteen is old enough to drop out of school without attracting official government notice; Xanxus told Squalo to graduate, so he will be finishing school properly.

Squalo grunts, weighing the bundle speculatively and letting his school bag drop to the floor. Then he kicks the bag over to the coffee table, kneels down and starts unknotting the ties holding the roll together. He's grown a lot taller in the past twelve months; unlikely to get much taller though, being six foot already. Now he's mostly finished growing Xanxus will want to sort out a proper hand replacement for him; probably in the summer when business is slow.

There's a thud as Squalo gets the knots open, then muffled clinks and rustling as he unrolls the bundle across the coffee table. It's slightly longer than her forearm –fingertip to elbow– and when rolled up it's easily half as wide across the diameter.

She watches as the white-haired teen stares at the selection of blades laid out in front of him, then unsheathes each one in turn to examine the edges and test the balance. He is utterly engrossed; that bodes well.

"Where'd you find these, you?" he asks eventually, looking up from a sextet of slim throwing daggers. He did cut his hair short back in the autumn after the Inheritance Ceremony, but he's growing it out again as the way it sticks up at the back when short is apparently undignified. Xanxus has a collection of slim eight-inch braids made from his Rain's hair that he attaches to various things, including one he added to the rank insignia on the shoulder of his Varia jacket.

"I designed most of them," she replies, "although Inchino had to modify some of my ideas so they actually worked. He came up with a few of his own too." Inchino is one of the Varia's best knife-smiths and he likes a challenge.

"They're ridiculous," the Rain Officer says absently, juggling an unevenly serrated blade with a wavy tip back and forth in his hand.

"Have fun working out how to fight with them," Xanna says dryly. Yes they _are_ ridiculous and Squalo is terrible at gratitude, but he could make an effort.

"Hey, thanks," he tells her belatedly, briefly catching her eyes while still flipping the blade over and over.

"You're welcome; lunch is spaghetti alla marinara." One of his favourites. There are endless jokes about Squalo's fondness for fish and seafood when his name means 'shark'.

The newly-sixteen assassin grins at her, sheathes the knife, shoves the array of blades across the coffee table and gets out his homework. Watching him absently caress them while doing his reading and in between answering questions indicates that this is a very successful gift indeed. Good.

* * *

Today is terrible. Completely awful. Her period started early and everything aches. No cramps, thankfully, but the bone-deep all-over ache is not much of an improvement. And she's cold. She's huddling under two blankets on the couch in the Varia office but despite wearing a woolly jumper under her jacket and thick socks on her feet, she's barely managing to stay tepid. Her lovely, considerate, thoughtful Division are keeping her in mint tea and staring reproachfully at would-be troublemakers, which is wonderful when right now she's the only Officer in the building.

Xanxus is in a meeting with Massimo over at the Iron Fort, something about Alliance families getting their residences shot at, Pýř's out with his partner hunting down whichever idiot thought they could get away with that kind of posturing in territory belonging to _his_ Sky, Squalo is on a mission –she lets him skip school to lead his Squad now he's sixteen, so long as he keeps up with his work– Lussuria is off-duty and out somewhere, Mammon is negotiating with R&D over new weaponry and Bel is in Japan with Takeshi, who at her birthday picnic last week expressed his intent to learn to use a sword.

She got Bel to supervise the barely-younger boy by mentioning that Yamamoto senior is an excellent sushi chef; the Storm Officer loves sushi.

The office door opens, then closes rather forcefully; Xanna opens her eyes and squints at the intruder. "Luss?"

The Sun Officer hesitates just inside the room. "Darling, are you alright? Have you caught something?"

"Wrong time of the month," Xanna admits with a grimace; she was fine first thing this morning but it all hit her at once around ten and now she's suffering. "What's the matter?" Something is definitely up with her friend.

Lussuria smiles, the expression bright and plastic, opens his mouth… and hesitates. That is a dead give-away really.

"Come sit," she tells him, patting the space on the couch by her stomach, in the curl of her chest and bent knees.

The Sun Officer tosses his jacket onto the coat rack, minces over and delicately settles right on the edge of the seat; Xanna wraps her arms around his middle and pulls him back so she can snuggle around him properly.

"Feeling lonely sugar-lump?" he teases her, but his heart clearly isn't in it.

"Luss, you're my friend," she tells him quietly, wishing she didn't feel so fragile, "let me be your friend too, please?"

"Oh honey," the Sun sighs, stroking her hair, "it's nothing. I'm just being silly."

"That's not it," Xanna contradicts him firmly. "You hurt. Hurt feelings are never silly. Pain is not for laughing at."

"That's sweet of you to say, Sprite," Lussuria murmurs, toying with a loose bang, "but it really is silly. I don't know what I was expecting really."

"This is to do with Dino." She had suspected her friend was more attached to Cesco's little brother than he was letting on.

Luss humms an affirmative, still fiddling with her messy hair.

"I take it he's closing his eyes, sticking his fingers in his ears and loudly pretending those aren't his feelings that he's feeling?"

The Sun chokes on a surprised giggle. "Treasure, you have a way with words," he eventually manages, still giggling.

Well this she can maybe help with despite feeling like shit. "Bring him over."

"Sprite?"

"Boss had a feeling," Xanna says elliptically, "so we talked about it. Invite the little horse over right now so we can talk."

"Honey–"

"You are my fellow Guardian and very dear to me besides," she tells him seriously, peeking up at him as best she can from knee level. "Xan and I want you to be well. Let me do this for you."

"Do what, sugar?" Luss asks suspiciously.

"I am going to talk to Dino," Xanna says mildly, "like I talked to Xanxus back when he was just getting into his teens. But probably more emphatically, since Dino's older and Xanxus was smart enough to accept I was telling him the truth the first time through."

"You are why Boss is so… so," Luss pauses, visibly groping for a word, "so unfazed by different genders and sexualities?"

"I was the person to articulate to him that gender and sexuality are social constructs which vary considerably from culture to culture, yes," Xanna admits easily. "I also pointed out that culturally imposed gender presentation and what people consider 'acceptable' in terms of sexual practices are therefore utter bullshit so long as everything is consensual, non-damaging and the power dynamics are well-balanced."

Lussuria stares at her unreadably from behind his prescription sunglasses. "Honey, if I were into women I'd marry you today," he says eventually.

"Too late, Boss proposed first," Xanna teases him with a gentle smile.

"He is so lucky to have you, sugar-lump, you have no idea."

"That goes both ways," she reminds him, "but you're still his Guardian and it's not like I'm going anywhere either. Especially not today."

"Do you need more tea, darling?"

"Please. And call Dino."

Lussuria pulls a face. "Really honey?"

"Really Luss," she says firmly. "It will do him good and cheer you up."

"He's still crushing on you," the Sun comments neutrally.

"Good, it will distract him from objecting."

Luss laughs. "So cruel of you honey, but so funny too. Do I get to watch?"

"Very definitely; I want you in here for this."

"Well then, how can I refuse?"


	5. Chapter 5

She still feels like shit when Dino shows up, but she's managed to wedge herself into a vaguely upright position at one end of the couch and move the blankets around so they are still keeping her warm. Her colour is clearly terrible though, as the first thing the younger Cavallone does on walking into the room is hurry closer and almost brain himself on the coffee table as he trips over his own feet.

"Are you okay?" he asks solicitously as Lussuria sets him upright again and surreptitiously steals his jacket.

"I am not in any serious pain and as well as can be expected," Xanna says bracingly, then pats the seat by her hip. "Come sit down."

"Er," he dithers, a flush painting his cheeks.

"Please?"

Yes, she is taking shameless advantage of looking terrible to manipulate him, why shouldn't she? Especially when it works; he slips backwards onto her while trying to situate himself, but abdominal pain has not turned her muscles to jelly so she easily lifts him to where she wants him then wraps her arms around his chest as she leans forward into his back, her nose brushing his tennis shirt.

"Getting comfortable, sugar?" Luss asks teasingly, pouring more tea into her mug.

Xanna can't see Dino's face with her forehead leaning against his shoulder-blade, but she can feel his heartbeat speeding up and hear his breathing going funny; can feel the changes in his Flames too. "Very comfy," she agrees. "You're very huggable, little horse."

Dino squeaks. It's adorable. Lussuria pours himself a mug of tea and settles on the coffee table, sitting forwards so his and his boyfriend's knees interlock. Dino makes another breathy squeaky noise.

"You okay there?" she asks, patting his ribs.

"Y-y-yes?"

"He's looking fine, sugar-lump," Luss corroborates, tone darkly playful, " _very_ fine."

Xanna's not the best at reading Flames but Dino is a Sky and Skies aren't subtle. Newly-Active Skies are even less subtle, so she can read him really easily: he's confused, turned on, ashamed of being turned on and there's an amorphous undercurrent of anticipation too.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, little horse," she tells him gently, flexing her arms slightly around his ribcage.

"I, you, but!" Dino manages incoherently, hands flailing and nearly colliding with Luss's mug.

"Xanxus is firmly of the opinion that your crush is proof of having excellent taste," she tells him teasingly. "He's not jealous or angry; I'm marrying _him_ after all, not you. Enjoy the feeling while it lasts, little horse."

"But, wrong!"

"Emotions are never wrong, Dino," she tells him firmly, resisting the impulse to kiss his neck. She is not his mother, a sisterly figure or even a close friend, so it would be inappropriate and unfairly confusing for him. "Inconvenient certainly and frequently difficult to face, but never wrong; emotions are an expression of your soul. Accept them, explore them, acknowledge them and seek out in yourself where they are rooted, but no not deny them. Denial just makes you unhappy." Of course having an emotion does not justify acting on it, but the emotions themselves are nothing to be ashamed of. If you don't like them, find out why you feel that way and deal with the root of the issue.

Dino sags into her. "Really don't mind?" he mumbles.

She pats his ribs again, this time on both sides. "Really. The heart wants what it wants, little horse; it's not rational or logical. Roll with it."

"Kay." She feels her words settle in his mind, lessening the shame and guilt. It's a good start and she wasn't expecting it all to vanish at once; Rome wasn't built in a day.

They sit in silence for a little while, Dino gradually relaxing more and the lust rippling through his Flames settling into a steady almost-background hum.

"So, you and Luss, hm?" Xanna asks eventually. "Luss dated Xanxus for a bit, you know." She pauses, "or was it Xanxus dating Luss?"

"He asked me," Luss confirms, a smile in his voice. "Was never going to last but it was fun."

"Think it could last with the little horse here?" she asks idly.

"More up to him than up to me, honey," the Sun murmurs.

Dino shifts in her arms a little, desire and fondness all tangled up with fear and confusion.

"What's bothering you, little horse?" Xanna inquires quietly, hugging him a little closer. She feels sore and tired and her brain is barely working but it would be nice to be able to help regardless.

"Nothing."

"Lie," she sings lightly.

"It's nothing, really."

"Lie again," she scolds him gently, squeezing his ribs. "You can't shock me; I was the person to give Xanxus the dating talk. And the explanation that it was okay to like boys. And the contraception talk. And the kink talk. And the very detailed breakdown of how to get intercourse to work between two men." That last one really taxed her brain but the internet had been –and hopefully would be again– a very interesting and informative place.

Dino chokes; Lussuria makes a muffled but blatantly gleeful noise. "How do you know _that_ , honey?"

"You would be amazed by what I've found in my mind, Luss, you really would," Xanna says dryly. "Let's just say that well-written porn is a gift that keeps on giving, shall we?"

Dino squeaks again as Luss bursts out laughing.

"So, talk," Xanna demands once both of them have settled again.

Dino makes a sound like an embarrassed kazoo and covers his face with both hands.

"Do I have to guess, little horse?" she murmurs, leveraging herself up a bit further so she can prop her chin on his shoulder, the entire front of her body plastered against his back. "I know Xan gave you the kink talk; probably a far more detailed and involved kink talk than the one I gave him, since he's far more experienced in that area than I."

Dino twitches in her arms.

"If you were asking, you're interested," she continues relentlessly, "at least a little. So what is it you like? Your emotions are part of who you are; don't deny them. If you don't accept yourself, how can you be happy?"

"Stupid."

"Tastes are never stupid. Own them and nobody worth listening to will comment; you don't think my Sky is stupid for wearing makeup, do you?"

Dino makes a small, unhappy sound in his throat, but his emotions do settle again, somewhat. "I…" he mumbles, hands and gaze dropping to his lap.

"Hm?" she coaxes.

"… I like being tied up." It's barely a whisper.

"Do you know why you like it?" Xanna asks, tone calm and utterly lacking in judgement.

A pause. "Feels… safe," he admits eventually. "Can't move, can't spoil it."

Oh, ouch.

"Cookie, you've never ruined anything by falling over," Lussuria croons, setting his mug down and reaching out to grasp his boyfriends hands. "I promise you. I love you as you are; bruises and all."

Dino shifts a little, but doesn't answer.

"It's not just that, is it little horse?" Xanna divines, considering the implications. "You hate being clumsy and you hate yourself for being clumsy. Even though it's not something you do on purpose."

Oh, she's hit the nail on the head; ouch and double ouch.

"I am sure that Luss has hated his eyesight issues before now," she continues calmly, "so it's not just you, but you're going to have to forgive yourself for that, Dino. Have to apologise to yourself too; it's not your fault so you shouldn't blame yourself."

"Easy for you to say." He's slid his hands out of his boyfriend's and is cradling himself defensively; time to pull out the big guns.

"Dino, my memories are a mess," she tells him frankly. "A complete shit-show and some days I hate it. I don't know my own surname or my real birthday or what the hell happened to me before Xanxus found me. Yes, I do have memories but I'm not entirely sure those memories were originally mine; some days I look in the mirror and wonder whose face that is and there's something about my eyes that niggles because it's _wrong_. I hate it. But I can't afford to, so I have to forgive myself for not even knowing what's happened with me. Usually a few times a month, but on bad days it can be every other hour."

She's mostly sure now that her memories come from a past life or alternate life or something, like Natsuki's do, except hers have overwritten or replaced most of what her current self knew. She does her best not to dwell on it, as it wouldn't help. This is who she is now, she does love her life and she doesn't want to change it. Even though it niggles more now than it ever did when she was younger; that's more to do with never feeling safe enough to explore the issue when she was younger. Now it's safe though and there is Natsuki to think of as well, so her brain keeps picking at it.

"Sorry."

"Not your fault, little horse," she reminds him gently. "Love yourself, this is the only life you get and you aren't getting out of it alive."

Dino snorts. "I'll try," he concedes, relaxing into her again.

"Good. So you like being tied up, hm? Like having Luss tie you down and have his way with you?"

"Xa!" It's an incoherent and embarrassed squeak.

"None of that, little horse; it's nothing to be ashamed of. Xan likes it too sometimes; he's got so many responsibilities and people to look after, I suppose it's nice to not be in control and be the person being looked after instead."

"Don't have responsibilities."

"Lie; you're the heir to a very large mafia family, you are _drowning_ in responsibility," Xanna tells him firmly. "You're so used to it you don't consciously notice it, but that doesn't mean you don't feel it in your heart." Francesco's not married yet and is unlikely to have time to do any wooing for a while, what with needing to keep the Cavallone solvent, so Dino's going to be Heir for a few more years yet.

She feels that hit him. "Oh."

Well, finally! "Yes, little horse, 'oh'. Take better care of yourself, hm? Or better still, let Luss take care of you. He's good at it."

Dino whimpers. "Stop making everything about sex, please!"

"I am not," Xanna objects grumpily, poking him in the ribs. "Who do you think put me back together after I got my spine and ribcage crunched? There are supposed to be fifty-eight bones in the axial skeleton –not counting the skull– but mine was in three-hundred and thirty-six pieces! One of the older members of Medical told me afterwards that they expected it to be a career-ending injury! But Luss organised a team to put me back together and helped me recover completely, so much so that I can go on working in the Varia without any loss of mobility or Quality. He spent months taking care of me, Dino, months! He's wonderful and don't you dare take him for granted."

"Oh honey, you sweet-talker you," Luss says softly.

"I adore you, don't ever doubt it," she tells the Sun firmly. "I'm still miffed I'm not your type." Not massively upset, but definitely miffed.

"You're jealous?" Dino very clearly can't believe it.

"A little bit, yes," Xanna admits candidly. "Luss is my fellow Guardian and very important to my fiancé for a range of reasons, but I'm never going to get a threesome and voyeurism is nowhere near as fun as participating." It could definitely have been fun.

Luss explodes with laughter, clutching at his gut and rolling right off the coffee table. "Darling dear," he finally manages to wheeze from where he's sprawled on the marble floor, "sugar-lump, honey-bun, your _priorities_ –!"

Dino is chuckling helplessly too, so Xanna counts it as a win.

* * *

"Pixie."

"Hm?" Xanna glances up from her book; she does not have any paperwork right now and is thoroughly enjoying its absence. Her Sky is also miraculously lacking in official paperwork –for possibly an entire hour now– and is sketching something. Probably hands, considering that Squalo has stopped growing, so needs a better prosthetic than the dummy fake he currently has.

"Remember the sin?"

"The what?"

"Inheritance ceremony," Xanxus reminds her, "Ninth handed over a fancy vial; called it the sin."

What a silly name. "I do vaguely remember that."

"Plus the Trial where I was asked about taking on the family's sins."

"I'm sensing a theme," she tells him dryly, "a very Catholic theme." Christian she may be but she is definitely not Catholic, which was another source of conflict with Ninth back when he was alive. Not that Signora Vongola is much happier about it, to be honest, but she at least is willing to engage in actual conversation on the subject.

Her Sky snorts. "Ha; yes. Well, the sin is blood."

"Run that by me again?"

"In the vial, at the ceremony; it was blood." Xanxus looks distracted. "And it reacted to my Flames."

"What do you mean by 'reacted'?" And how old is that blood sample anyway? Blood goes off; it's made of living cells and it doesn't last very long. Clearly there is Flame-science at work to keep the cells alive for decades upon decades. Some kind of Mist work maybe, or possibly a Sky thing?

"Blood is interesting," her Sky murmurs. "A person's own blood will always respond to their Flames and carry traces of those Flames, but close relatives and Guardians can also get a spark. I used blood in your engagement ring, to make my Flames stick." He pauses. "The blood didn't react to Ninth. Not at all. Not for Grandma either; asked her."

Oh. Well that was interesting, wasn't it? "Why is it called 'the sin' anyway? Whose blood is it?"

"What I want to know," Xanxus mutters. "Definitely some connection to my father's side of things; ancient Vongola dirty secrets? Family feud?"

That rings a bell somehow. "Xanxus, remember how your grandmother tested the genetics of some Vongola with red eyes like yours and it turns out they had the identical gene complex for eye colour?"

"Yes."

"Well they were descended from Second's first wife, Maria Simon. Probably related to the Simon family who all mysteriously vanished around eighteen-twenty-four; I thought there might have been a massacre, but what if some of them got away?"

"Ran a long, long way," Xanxus muses thoughtfully. "All the way to Russia?"

"Russia's a big place and easy to hide in," Xanna agrees.

"Then a few generations later somebody who doesn't know all the family history comes back," her Sky continues. "Hm." He lapses back into silence, so Xanna returns to her reading.

* * *

Vongola parties are not Xanna's favourite thing, even though she can get away with wearing her Varia uniform, a smart shirt and modest makeup to most of them. They are especially despised when she is short on sleep and worried about more important things, like right now. Half the Vittore are down with a nasty fever some irresponsible –and now dead– assassin brought back from a mission in Africa and Medical are all chugging Tyrant's coffee to stay awake, monitor the quarantined patients and come up with a vaccine that is safe enough for the rest of the kids. Lussuria hasn't left Medical all week –he even sleeps in there– and Xanna would be in there too, except she's been banned as somebody needs to make sure the Varia continues running. She did catch the fever early on, but her immune system won the war before she started showing the more dangerous symptoms so Lussuria has a fresh pint of her blood he is playing with in between making sure nobody dies; his comment about being 'madly in love with your immune system, sugar,' was probably not something he meant to say out loud.

Bel is in quarantine, Squalo is crashing with Dino between missions –nobody who was out of the building before the idiot came back has been allowed to return– Pýř is nowhere to be found but his paperwork is getting done so she isn't prying, Mammon is currently burrowing their way through the Vongola's financial history and terrorising the accountants and Xanxus is just as grumpy about having to focus on wider Vongola matters as she is.

The two of them are sleeping in the Iron Fort. Not in their old suite, but not in the official Don Vongola suite either; Xanxus has ordered it remodelled and it's nowhere near finished. Their current room is spacious, comfortable and suitably secure, but Xanna still doesn't like it. It isn't home. It sounds wrong, in that there's no underlying polyphonic susurrus of Varia shenanigans going on in the background. The room is the wrong shape. The window is too big.

She does not like sleeping in this building.

She may never like sleeping in this building.

She has issues with sleeping in this building that she really needs to face up to and get over, because she is marrying Xanxus in the autumn and they will definitely be moving over here then, because she wants to have children and the Varia is really not an appropriate environment for that. Small children have minders and adults responsible for them, but newborns are completely different to toddlers in the amount of attention they need and that's without accounting for how she will definitely not be capable of maintaining Quality fitness standards during pregnancy. May not try for children immediately though; that way moving can be put off a little and Lightning Division can be in a better place. Her apprentices still need to make Quality after all and they'll need seasoning after that.

Right now however she has more issues with the little gossipy groups this party has formed and how some of them are bad-mouthing her Sky. In a subtle, insidious, sideways way, comparing the chosen weapons of Varia Dons past and present and what that might say about their personality. In particular it is the assertion that Ninth's sceptre reflected 'peaceful governance' that is so blatantly wrong she can't let it stand.

"You do know that a sceptre is essentially a mace?" she says coolly, cutting into the conversation in one of the larger groups when the speaker pauses for breath and making sure her voice carries. "A long-handled club used by horsemen to break the helmets and skulls of foot soldiers. In the hands of a leader it is a symbol of royal and ecclesiastical authority; obey or be crushed. Don't be fooled by the ornamentation, it's a weapon for inflicting grievous bodily harm at mid-range." She smiles, the expression cold, "an ancient but extremely effective weapon for killing people through blunt force trauma and a traditional symbol of absolute political and moral authority; a rather apt choice for the longest-ruling Vongola Don. Don Zanasi, I believe you wanted a word with the new Head of Personnel? I'll introduce you."

Behind them the group explodes into far more amusing speculation as she leads the older man across the room. His respectful side-eye as she introduces him is very gratifying.

* * *

Xanna now has eight apprentices to wrangle in addition to everything else; she brought them on herself really, but Varia training is mostly self-directed, so they're managing well enough without her help so far.

She is not starting them on Flame-training until they make all other aspects of Quality, including all the unspoken subtle bits involved in interacting with Varia assassins without instigating a fight by accident. Deliberate instigation of fights is a different kind of problem; if they bite off more than they can chew they will die, because the Varia is not a very forgiving environment and far more social than it seems.

In the records these eight Lightnings are Eins, Zwei, Drei, Vier, Fünf, Sechs, Sieben and Acht; apprentice nicknames are generally cutesy or ridiculous but numbering them was practical and straightforward at the time and it has stuck. There's no rhyme or reason to the numbers, which seems to frustrate the octet more than if she'd ordered them alphabetically or by height or induction time or indeed by _anything_ other than 'I realised they needed naming and picked numbers'.

Xanna has not told them that she gave them numbers according to what felt right for each of them and that Drei was almost Zehn. That the numbers are all sequential is more a happy accident than a deliberate order.

They are all at least sixteen, but not all of them are graduating this year. Well, more accurately, five of them are not in their last year of high school. Those ones are however unlikely to return to high school in the autumn, as all of them have taken strongly to the challenge of becoming Varia Quality and are vanishingly unlikely to fail to meet that standard. One or two of them may kill themselves reaching the desired standard, but they won't quit.

Squalo does not know this. She would much rather he never found out either, because he's starting his final year in September. He's much more settled with his new –older– peers and Dino is apparently much happier too. Although Dino being happier may not just be school; his relationship with Lussuria is ongoing, apparently stable and Luss is clearly enjoying it too.

It is an effort not to get attached when she personally scouted all of them, but she is still trying. Because it is vanishingly unlikely that all of them will manage to become Quality and survive Activating their Flames. She is probably going to fail, however. These Lightnings –six boys and two girls– are far livelier and more personable than her entire Division together and Xanna has such high hopes for them it hurts. These kids are one more painstaking step along the road to abolishing the awful, destructive horror that is current Lightning Flame-training in the wider Vongola and they are already doing so incredibly well.

The eight have been given the collective nickname of 'the goslings' by the rest of the Varia, so they often get referred to in variations of 'Goose One', 'Goose Two' and so on in various languages. They're taking it… variously well. Vier does a wicked goose impression –loud hisses, honks and all– while Sieben goes mysteriously deaf whenever somebody combines the word 'goose' with his number. Well, he tries to; he doesn't know enough languages to do so consistently, but he's getting there. Several of her Lightnings are 'helping' by teaching him farm animals and other useful words in the languages he doesn't know yet. This has also made Sieben's choice of insults… interesting. He's not very grammatical yet but he is highly creative and somehow manages not to mix the different languages up.

They are all very different from each-other, despite all being Lightnings. almost every last member of Lightning Division have an excruciating sameness to them, stunted and bludgeoned into a single mould that crushed most of the spark out of them. Two years of coaxing those guttering glimmers into life has borne fruit, but having non-traumatised Lightnings in the Division will help too, to provide reference points other than her; she is not a representative sample all by herself, not even with the new scattering of civilian-born Lightnings making their way up through the mook pool.

She loves her battered brigade of survivors and appreciates their achievements right to her bones, but that just makes her more determined to ensure they get to see a world where Activating their Flame-type is not a death sentence for the soul. They could be so much more and they are only now starting to glimpse the possibilities; ensuring a future where no child will be brutalised as they were is a worthy ambition.

* * *

Watering her plants has always been soothing. When she arrived at the Varia she had ten pots, half of them rescued from discount sales, bins and the Iron Fort's compost heap and the other half grown from seed, the one exception being the probably very illegal vanilla orchid Falena give her for her eighteenth birthday. There have been many more plants over the years, but most of those that weren't annual vegetable plants have either been given away or planted out in the grounds of the Iron Fort when they outgrew their pots.

She now has almost fifty pots, twelve of which live in her official Officer office and are in the care of her Division, who have a watering rota and neatly-written summaries of common plant problems and how to counter them, with specifics for each individual plant. The aloe is large, hardy and always looked nibbled due to burns being an occupational hazard anywhere there are Flame-Actives; she has split it once already and will probably have to split it again next year. The fern was a present from Igor, who brought it back from a museum in a box that claimed it was a 'dinosaur fern'. It's been repotted four times and guzzles water, but still manages to be charmingly hardy and has grown unexpectedly large; possibly because Igor talks to it regularly, telling it how beautiful it is.

The four succulents have also been repotted recently, as they're growing too. There was one early disaster with her poor Division almost killing her first cactus through overwatering, but they've got the hang of how watering requirements vary now and this year there may even be flowers. There is also a peach sapling growing from a fruit stone, a tiny lemon sapling –Magari is exceptionally proud of having nurtured that particular seed into sprouting– a five foot avocado tree that is probably going to need planting out before it gets too tall to move through doorways, two cheap moth orchids that have not stopped flowering once since she got them and a currently-unidentified year-old sapling that she suspects is a walnut.

Her modest original plant collection inspired a degree of scientific curiosity in her Division, so over half her current plants are the result of one of them planting some nut or seed and managing to get it to sprout, then presenting it to her in the confidence that she will be able to tell them how not to kill it. Her Officer office now has a shelf full of gardening books in four languages to assist in this endeavour and they haven't lost a plant yet. They've eaten a few –like the asparagus– and many more have succumbed to short life-spans, but that doesn't really count.

Xanna is mostly grateful that it's plants and not pets; plants are more resilient and less demanding. All the office plants have names on or by their pots and whoever is doing the watering always talks to them each in turn, which is sweet and wonderful. Although her Division is utterly terrible at names; the cacti for instance are called Spiky, Fuzzy, Chubby and Tall and the fern is called Frondy. In a range of languages depending on who is doing the watering, of course.

She grows her herbs and vegetables on the balcony attached to the suite's office, which gets a lot of direct sunlight and is warm due to all the stone absorbing heat during the day. It's also private, only accessible through the office and to particularly adventurous Varia climbing over the roof, which doesn't happen often. Admittedly it happened a lot more last summer when her cherry tomato plants were fruiting, but Xanxus helped her set up better security and now nobody can steal her efforts.

Xanna doesn't mind sharing the produce if people ask, but thievery is not appreciated.

Indoors she mostly has ferns and other shade plants, including the massive and probably illegal orchid Falena gave her that has grown up around a two metre post in her private sitting room towards the narrow windows near the ceiling. She's pretty sure it's a vanilla orchid; looking after it is tricky but it smells nice and despite a few early mistakes she hasn't managed to kill it yet.

Watering is a regular part of the morning routine if it's been a day or so since it last rained, which it usually is as spring turns to summer. Since the terrace faces west it doesn't get direct sunlight until just after noon, so there's plenty of time to make sure the plants have enough to drink in the mornings.

She talks to the plants too. She's probably why her Lightnings talk to the plants. They're very impressionable.

"Here you go, drink up. Let's have a look at those leaves… hm, doing well. Flower buds too? Somebody's keen. And water for you too. Wow, you're getting tall; I should probably get some canes. Hmm, all of you sunflowers are really shooting up; I may have to plant you out in the grounds at this rate so you can develop properly deep roots and not topple over. Lettuces… looking good. Really good; hmm, taste good too. Rosemary still as indestructible as ever, I see. Basil looking vigorous and smelling amazing; I may have to make a salad. Or possibly a pizza."

She pets the basil leaves, enjoying the scent that fills the air and coats her fingers.

"Oh dear, out of water; I'll be right back to see to the rest of you." A watering can only takes so much after all.

Xanna loves her plants. They're wonderfully low effort compared to her other responsibilities and give so much back. Not that Xanxus, her Division and the kids aren't all wonderful, but… well. Her cherry tomato plants need so much less attention and in summer she can eat fresh tomatoes off the vine daily for over a month, which is not to be sniffed at. Even though plants are not really huggable.

Speaking of, after her plants are watered she needs to go find her fiancé. He came to bed at a decent time but he wasn't there when she woke up, so she wants to go see what that's about. If he's in his workshop because he dreamed up a breakthrough on the hand for Squalo that's one thing, but if he's gone back to the Iron Fort without taking any Guardians or Varia with him or even leaving a note then she is not going to be pleased.

* * *

"Sprite."

She holds up a hand to her sparring partner to pause the bout, steps off the mats and meets her Sky's eyes. "Yes Boss?"

He gives her a quick once-over. "Found someone interesting," he tells her elliptically.

She's broken a sweat but not seriously; she doesn't need to shower. "Lead on then Boss."

Xanxus leads on. He leads on out of the building to a motorbike, down the road and all the way to a decently fancy hotel just inside Palermo's city limits, putting it outside Vongola territory. Pýř is loitering irritably in the foyer and silently leads them up three floors to a suite just like all the others, where Maínomai is playing on the carpet with two kids as their parents look on indulgently.

Two kids with red eyes exactly like her Sky's. Two kids whose parents both have those selfsame red eyes.

The man's a redhead; a rich, vibrant red rather than a coppery ginger. He looks vaguely Asian otherwise, being barely Xanna's height and slimly built, but his jawline, eyesockets and eyebrows hint at European heritage. His wife is even more Asian, with thick, straight brown hair, a delicate build and beautifully shaped eyes. Rich red eyes so like Xanna's Sky has.

Both children are a blend of their parents, the boy looking entirely Asian –possibly more Japanese than anything else– except for the red hair and eyes, while the girl has more mixed features and brown hair. Xanna estimates the boy to be seven –Tsuna's age– and the girl to be five.

"This is Kozato Makoto, his wife Emi, his son Enma and his daughter Mami," Xanxus says in Japanese, the shift in language prompting her to bow politely on autopilot. "Kozato-san is an art dealer."

"What kind of art?" Xanna asks instantly, making eye-contact with the redheaded man.

"Paintings mostly, on canvas and paper and board," Kozato-san replies, faintly bemused but willing enough to talk about his job, "ceramics and metalwork as well."

"Any particular period or are you a generalist?" What Xanna knows about buying art is all picked up from Mammon, who is in charge of valuing everything the Varia abscond with while on missions and bring home, but what Mammon considers basic is enough for most people to start a career.

"Before the first world war, for the most part, but not any earlier than the fifteenth century," Kozato-san says easily, "in Europe at least. In Japanese art however I go back to the tenth century."

"Oh good; my fiancé and I have to move into the family pile after we marry and I'm desperate to switch up the décor a bit; I grew up there and some of the memories are a bit…" she trails off with a shrug. "Anyway, it's all very sombre and pretentious so Xan is redecorating a little for me. Which is all very well in terms of brightening up the rooms, but arranging new art that matches the tone of the house without being more of the same overly-gilt frames and gloomy gothic landscapes is trickier. Might I commission your assistance?" Xanxus hasn't tried to stop her, so he's clearly fine with this. He wouldn't have brought her in at all if he didn't want her to be nosy and personable on his behalf.

"Any particular preferences?" Kozato-san asks, eyes brightening and sharpening in a way that is all too familiar to her; now she can see a real resemblance to her Sky beyond just eye-colour and something hinted around the nose and jaw-line.

"I don't mind portraits so long as I know who they're of, lively faces are preferable to pretentious sobriety and I'd like paintings of regular people rather than aristocrats, if possible." Remind the Vongola of their humble roots, plus generally more interesting. "People of all shapes, sizes and colours would also be appreciated. Local would be nice, if you can find some. Art from outside Europe would also be interesting and I like ceramics, but no sculpture and no abstracts, please; impressionistic is fine, but abstract leaves me cold. Especially the soulless modern abstracts that lack beauty." She pauses, "and I do want to know who the artists are as well. However I would rather have an attractive painting by an obscure artist than a boring one by somebody infamous."

"Your budget?"

"Generous," Xanxus drawls, glancing over at Kozato-san again. He had been watching the children, who are engaged in a lively game of pretend with Maínomai. Pýř is nowhere in sight, but is probably prowling the hotel corridors to ensure the building remains secure.

"Would you like to see the house first? So you understand what kind of dimensions you have to work with?" Xanna suggests. "The children would be no problem; we have a number of younger relatives running around the place." Tsuna and his little pack have the run of the Iron Fort now and are there as often as at the Varia. The Vittore are more reluctant to move, but they too recognise it is going to have to happen so they are gradually exploring the building. And getting into the secret passages a lot.

There is a brief instant of conflict between social modesty and professional willingness, but Kozato-san agrees and the entire family is loaded into a miraculously appearing Vongola car and driven off to the Iron Fort.

"Ah, my apologies madam, but Vongola-san did not introduce you," Kozato-san says after they have arrived and Xanna has been mobbed by ten Vittore all hanging around the front entrance.

Xanna's brain abruptly shifts into high-speed panic mode. She doesn't have a surname!

"Our mama is Vittore Xanna!" Risa says cheerfully in Japanese, arms wrapped around her two-year-old half-sister Aimée, who is drooling on her shirt.

"Mamma Xanna!" four of the five-year-olds agree loudly, rushing her legs and all trying to hug her at once.

"All of yours mama?" Enma asks, eyes wide.

"Xanna is our _adopted_ mama," Naomi says a little patronisingly, "which means she's our mama because she _wants_ to be."

"You have a very large family, Vittore-san," Kozato-san's wife says, her tone both complimentary and slightly surprised.

"There are twenty-three of them," Xanna agrees ruefully, "but I would not exchange them for anything." So she's a Vittore now. Well, if Naomi says so then it can even go on the paperwork; it turns out that Naomi and Natsuki are the nominal heirs to the former Estraneo family, seeing as their father was the eldest son of the former Don. Actual leadership of the family in hiding was taken over by one of the late Don's younger brothers, but by mafia law it is Naomi and Natsuki –mainly Natsuki since Naomi's a bit fuzzy on their gender even now and the mafia's not exactly tolerant of that– who have the right to lead the family. As demonstrated by Naomi re-naming the family, Natsuki claiming her as 'mother' last autumn and now Naomi not objecting to giving her their name.

"Not counting Tsuna?" Xanxus asks slyly.

"He's your foster-kid, not mine." She's not Vongola after all; she only signed those papers because she's Xanxus's Guardian and he's not eighteen yet. The Vittore on the other hand are actually in her personal care, despite her delegating most of the day-to-day bits. Lorenzo's doing pretty well there and has managed to drag himself up to almost Quality standards on the side, which is impressive really.

"Going to be yours soon." Well, yes; they're getting married and all the kids will be in common.

"And you will have an extra twenty-three kids turning to you for paternal advice." Although to be honest they do that already, when they aren't turning to whichever other Varia they've adopted as favoured adults.

"The horror," her fiancé deadpans, ruffling the hair of the nearest Vittore.

* * *

"So, why bring me in?" Xanna asks once Kozato-san has wandered off, engrossed in looking around the building, and his wife and kids have been swallowed by the Vittore collective.

"Well I'm sure you remember the shootings?" Maínomai says quietly, sidling up alongside her and Xanxus with Pýř hovering in the vicinity, "The weird ones where nobody was actually getting shot, just property damage? Well the Flame-trail was really strange but we're pretty sure now that it's a Mist and they're stalking Kozarto-san. Mist is probably a guy and possessing people so the trail can't be easily followed back to them and while Kozato-san _technically_ shot up the Cavallone and the Visconti he doesn't know Mist-asshole used his body to do that and might even be the reason why he owns a gun in the first place because really, what does a civvie art dealer need a gun for? An antique that doesn't work for sentimental reasons would be more in-character than a modern semi-automatic considering the time-frame he works with and neither Japan nor Europe is exactly dangerous enough that he needs to be armed. Pretty sure Mist-asshole is using him as a stalking horse and scapegoat and that's just mean. He's got little kids!"

"All got your eyes," Pýř adds as Maínomai pauses for breath.

"The name rings a bell somehow," Xanna agrees. "I mean, Kozarto? That sounds Spanish to me." No matter the not-remotely-Spanish looks.

"Cozarto, as in 'from Cózar'?" Maínomai mumbles thoughtfully.

"Second's first wife had an older brother called Cozarto," Xanna remembers, the connection finally surfacing. "Cozarto Simon. I think their grandmother was Spanish or something." The exact details of the church records don't spring to mind.

"First wife with red-eyed great-great-grandsons," Xanxus muses. "Hm." He glances at Pýř, "find the Mist." The implication being that the Cloud is to kill him when he finds him; Xanxus is protective of family.

The Cloud Officer nods sharply, turns and leaves the building, his partner trailing behind and waving at her, those kids still hanging around and the staff, a number of whom wave back. Maínomai is very personable.

"You wanted me to charm him into establishing some kind of potentially personal relationship, didn't you." Xanxus can be very charming and compelling in a professional context, but most of that goes out the window when it comes to actual friendships. She's the friendly one in personal matters; her fiancé is the relentless tease.

"Smart pixie."

"Well, I've done that, so now it's up to you to comment on how you've never seen anybody with eyes exactly like yours before or possibly set Information on hunting down who your Russian ancestors were to see if you can make the trails join up that way," she tells him. "I'll go chat to his wife and see what I can find out about their family background, travel habits and home address."

Xanxus kisses her. "My precious pixie."

"Love you too, crow."

* * *

Falena Superbi breezes back into their lives with all the subtlety of a category five hurricane. Of course, being Falena, she does so at seven in the morning in the Varia mansion's breakfast room. They are at least awake this early today, so she hasn't joined them in bed. Like she did that time at the Iron Fort.

"Xanna!" the brunette exclaims, swooping in with a tight hug and kissing her on both cheeks then on the lips in the usual friendly greeting. "Look at you! Being engaged definitely suits you." The taller woman hugs her again.

"Thanks, 'Lena," Xanna says warmly. "How is university?" Falena is studying law, specifically testament law and land legislation; she wants to join one of the Superbi legal practices, who are part of the loose network of mafia-friendly lawyers that make up Vongola Legal. If indeed any lawyer can ever be considered to be 'friendly'.

"Oh, you know, nothing much," the twenty-two-year-old says dismissively, flapping a hand. "I mean, what there _is_ isn't bad, but there's not as much as I thought there would be. So I'm getting a part-time job." Typical Falena; she's insanely energetic and ridiculously confident on top of being driven and clever, although really most Superbi are driven, clever and confident. It's the energy that's unusual.

"Doing?" Xanxus asks, glancing up from his empty coffee cup.

Falena smiles, releasing Xanna and flopping down in the chair she just got up from; Xanna grabs her plate of brioche and bowl of fruit, walks around the table and sits in her fiancé's lap instead.

"Well, red-eyes, your diplomatic training has rather set the cat among the pigeons," the impeccably dressed Superbi confides, eyes sly and smirk amused. "Apparently the Dons are feeling at a disadvantage. Uncle Leone called me up last week and asked if I'd be interested in working as his aide in Family matters, keeping track of local news, managing his schedule and so on, for a generous hourly rate. I, not being inclined to turn down money and work experience, agreed."

Don Superbi has never needed an aide before now; Pantera's father is terrifyingly astute and has a prodigious memory, both of which Pantera has inherited. But if _he_ wants his diplomatically-trained, something-cousin-a-few-times-removed on hand for official business, well…

Xanna wonders how many others of their classmates have suddenly been offered jobs by their Dons. Xanxus is clearly wondering the same and is visibly amused, provided you know how to read him.

"Yes, exactly," Falena agrees, being perfectly capable; that tends to happen after five years of school together in classes that promote observation and civil discussion. "I think they've finally started noticing how effectively you've been playing them; only took them eighteen months. We're going to feel obliged to make it more of a challenge for you in future, red-eyes, so please bear that in mind."

"Sounds good," Xanxus says equably. "Can help me keep them reasonable."

"Of course we will, red-eyes; only the best for the family," Falena says with a sweet, sharp smile. "Now introduce me to all these other lovely people."

"Assassins," Xanxus corrects idly.

"I was offered a place in the Varia at seventeen, red-eyes; I know what you do for a living," Falena retorts dismissively, waving a hand. "Not my thing but that doesn't make the people who do it any less worthy of my attention." Falena has a knack for remembering people and for doing favours, thereby securing favours in return. Xanna should probably be worried that she's decided that she needs to add Varia assassins to her network of connections, but Quality takes care of itself.

"Shark, names," the Sky orders. This command directs Falena's attention to her cousin, who up until now has been doing his best to efface himself. Doing pretty well too, but he's in the chair next her which probably doomed him from the start.

"Squalo! Goodness you've grown. Your hair looks lovely by the way, what shampoo are you using?"

"Hey, I don't know," the sixteen-year-old grumbles, "Xanna picked it."

"Xanna, you've been holding out on me!" Falena exclaims dramatically. "Where'd you find it?"

"You remember Danny talking about her cousin the botanical chemist?"

"Vaguely; wasn't he called Andrea?"

Xanna has no idea. "Well he's gone into cosmetics," she says instead, "specifically soaps made from or modelled after natural detergents; I can't bring the specifics to mind. I agreed to try some of them out and that shampoo is one of the successes. He's still working on getting in investors so as to turn it into a business rather than just doing it in batches on an artisan basis, but I'm optimistic."

"I'll have to talk to Danny then," Falena muses, reaching out and idly winding a strand of Squalo's hair around her finger; the Rain Officer studiously ignores her. "Might talk to a few other cousins too; see if any of my business-minded relatives want to go into partnership. Shampoo this good shouldn't go to waste."

"Well with you on the case, how could it?" Xanna asks with a smile. Falena is a force of nature; nobody stands in her way for very long.

"True," the power-suited Superbi agrees judiciously, releasing Squalo. "Now, how about those introductions your Sky promised me, little cousin?"

* * *

"Retiring?"

Mammon huffs. "Well, I can hardly reform the Vongola's abysmally inefficient financial practices, root out thieves, arrange better investments, investigate suppliers _and_ give both the Varia's finances and Mist Division the attention they deserve, can I? I will be staying on as Treasurer for the time being, but one of the new Lightnings has a knack for investments so I am taking him on as a student; Txarro. Kuchisake gets the Officer position." The tiny Mist sighs. "Then after that I expect you will want me to see about improving the family's intelligence infrastructure, since it appears to be completely non-existent."

"Your choice," Xanxus says simply, pulling the small pile of paperwork the ex-Officer had dropped on his desk towards him and reading through it, eyes flicking this way and that. Mammon settles slightly, cloak fluttering a little like a bird shifting its feathers. "Point five percent."

"Five percent," Mammon counters.

"Point seven five."

Xanna tunes out the haggling over investment percentages in favour of her own paperwork; Txarro is a former civilian who went Active after getting caught card-counting in a mafia betting ring, which helped him survive the fallout and escape, although he has made the transition to Varia Quality assassin surprisingly well. All the prospective-fosterlings have been fully vetted now, she's made her choices and issued her excuses, so she now has to sign every line in red ink and then all that's left is to make sure the rooms in the Iron Fort are ready. Along with the rooms for all the rest of the kids, since the whole point of taking this lot on is to socialise Tsuna and where Tsuna goes, the Vittore follow.

It is at least getting them out of Varia Headquarters and giving her excuses to move half the current Iron Fort domestic staff to other Vongola properties and replace them with members of Varia Housekeeping, since these members of Varia Housekeeping are parental figures to the younger Vittore and need to stay with them for continuity's sake. Tyrant's not exactly happy about her 'poaching', but it does create space for people to move up the hierarchy and ensure some of the smarter apprentices and mooks –the ones who recognise they can't actually make or keep Quality but don't want to leave– can get jobs that won't kill them within the year. It will also introduce some Quality standards to the Iron Fort's new Housekeeping division, which will be very welcome.

Transferring established Iron Fort staff is made easier by Massimo deciding he wants to live near Palermo –and the CEDEF offices– and by Federico wanting to move east to be closer to his lady-love and out of the public eye. Both older Vongola men have good relationships with the current staff, so the transferrals come across as a promotion to greater responsibility and autonomy rather than a punishment. Not that any of the staff is in any way responsible for how Ninth treated his youngest, but they saw a lot and were made complicit in a lot more. Xanxus also doesn't want to be constantly reminded that his way of doing things is different to what his father forced on him, so changing Housekeeping around was always going to happen.

"Keeping the Name?" her Sky asks nearly two hours later once the haggling is over, a few new forms have been drawn up and everything has been signed, duplicated and filed.

"For the time being, Boss," Mammon says after a pause.

Xanxus nods. "In your own time," he agrees, which clues Xanna in to the existence of several levels of subtext that have all gone right over her head. If she needs to know they'll tell her, so it doesn't bother her.

What _is_ bothering her is that it's been nine days since Pýř and Maínomai set out on their hunt and they're not back yet. Having a large and lucrative job in the area, Kozarto-san has moved his family into a hotel much nearer the Iron Fort –well inside Vongola territory– so they're safe for the time being, but any Mist who can give the Cloud Officer and one of Mist Division's strongest a run like this is definitely very good indeed. Probably not Quality, but still sneaky and observant enough to be a challenge to catch; individually Pýř and Maínomai are Quality –and Pýř is Officer Quality– but together they are an order of magnitude better. Their target is a dead man walking.

* * *

"Seriously?" Xanna can't help the word popping out of her mouth even though she knows she has been told the truth.

"Yes, really Daemon Spade; turns out he was only mostly dead so I'm kinda concerned about what he's been up to for the past century and a half," Maínomai says, rocking slightly on his feet. "I mean, he was completely raving mad, okay? Lost track of where sanity was and set up shop in delusionopolis with all his behaviour rationalised in such a way that he was constantly sabotaging the Vongola but telling himself he was strengthening it. I mean he was clearly _massively_ pissed off at First for some reason or other which makes sense considering he jumped ship to Second and it has to take something major to get a bonded Element to do that but still that's really sad. He hurt so much he couldn't let go and die so he hung around for another hundred and a half years hurting more and ruining everybody else's lives but not anymore because he's really all dead now and there's not even enough left to go through his pockets for loose change." The Mist takes a breath. "We did keep his anchor though; here it is, all completely cleansed and everything."

The pocket watch on the table looks completely innocuous, not at all like an item that the bogeyman of the Vongola tied his soul to for a hundred and fifty years so he could go on pulling strings and making people dance to his tune. The faded little black and white photograph of the First Generation –plus a woman– inside the watch face cover just makes it sadder.

"Looks a bit like you, pixie," her Sky comments, peering at the image.

"Yeah and you know, he noticed that too," Maínomai babbles, hands twisting in front of him, "and that kind of made it all worse? I mean he thought you were his lover reincarnated and couldn't seem to decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing so he kind of bounced from one extreme to the other and tried to avoid you altogether but he rationalised it as Boss being 'strong' so he didn't need to instigate disasters to 'test' him but then he found out about the engagement and changed his mind or maybe he was jealous so he found the Korzato guy who is apparently descended from one of First's best friends and tried to set you up to murder him Boss; or possibly he was going to murder the poor guy and frame you in front of the kids? He wasn't very clear on that part but seriously Boss, so much monologuing it was like a B-movie and that was so fucking weird I mean who monologues? Half the time he thought Sprite remembered him because it's not exactly secret that her memories are kind of wonky and she remembers being older than she is but the other half the time he was convinced that she didn't because if she had she'd have 'stayed faithful' or some such bullshit because he was that obsessed and it was probably the creepiest mission _ever_ , Boss please never send us out after undead crazies ever again?"

"Didn't realise I was doing it this time," Xanxus comments, visibly bemused by the torrent of words the Mist has just spewed at him. "He was watching?"

"Possession," Pýř says tersely.

"Yeah there are layers and levels to possession," Maínomai agrees, "it can be anything from just sitting in the sensory cortex watching the world go by to full-on takeover where the victim is spiritually comatose and has no idea what's going on. Then there're the nasty in between ones where the victim thinks it's them doing the things, or has their thoughts twisted so it _is_ them doing the things, or where they're fading in and out and know something's wrong and can't do anything about it or worse are along for the ride and being forced to watch. Guy wasn't as subtle as he thought he was though so now we know what he feels like we can probably trace his recent movements in Vongola territory if you want us to Boss." Another breath. "Actually scratch that please, I'm not volunteering for that, I want to go have a long hot shower then do something fun with the kids so my skin stops trying to crawl off."

Xanna still can't see the resemblance in the picture. Her hair's darker than that and that's definitely not her nose, but there's a vague something around the cheekbones, forehead and eye-sockets that might count as similar. In much the same way as she looks 'similar' to a whole load of other women.

"Officer wants a word," Xanxus tells the twitchy Mist –meaning the new Mist Officer and that will be a surprise for Maínomai– and nodding at the door. Maínomai takes his cue and dashes out of the suite, leaving Pýř behind. The Cloud Officer looks peeved, but if he were going to leave he'd have left.

"Tea?" Xanna offers. She gets a crisp nod, so she fills up the kettle in her private sitting room from the tap in the small, perfectly-laid-out darkroom leading off it and boils it, brewing up two cups of the dark tea both the Cloud and her Sky like so much. She likes her tea lighter; the underlying bitterness of the tannin in black tea is a bit much for her.

Pýř is a bit less on edge after he's sat on the sofa for twenty minutes in complete silence and drunk his heavily-sugared tea. "He left First," the Cloud says quietly, "Then left Second when he abandoned his body."

"Broke his own bonds?" Xanxus scowls. "Why?"

"Over her." Pýř is frowning too. "Obsessed; her name was Elena and they were lovers. She was killed by a rival family when First disarmed the Vongola." A pause. "More of a poltergeist than a person by the end."

"Blamed his Sky, broke himself." Xanxus shakes his head. "Then broke himself again. What a waste."

"Vongola lore puts First up on this shiny pedestal but he was just another fallible human being," Xanna says quietly. "Reading the records, the letters and the old treaties with the original Alliance and Allied Families, you can see he had amazing charisma but wasn't particularly introspective. An idealist, yes, but idealism can easily get carried away." Second was more pragmatic; probably a more effective leader too.

"Like Fede?"

"Quite a lot like Federico actually, yes, but born to a farming family just barely well-off enough to own their land and surrounded by poverty and injustice visited upon his friends and relatives by the wealthy and the armed," Xanna agrees.

Xanxus winces; yes, that was her reaction too. Federico lives a comfortable enough life that he's never thrown himself into a cause, but if this is what it would have looked like then maybe that's a good thing.

"Clusterfuck," her Sky says succinctly. "Didn't think it would be First's mistakes coming back to haunt me."

"Literally," Xanna agrees ruefully, "but at least he's all dead now?" She caught the Princess Bride reference, although why it made her think of the DC Wonder Woman comics is a mystery; another missing memory.

"Utterly," Pýř says shortly.

"Good." Xanxus looks like his mind is elsewhere, riffling through history and pondering possible repercussions of ghostly saboteurs. "Upgrade the Iron Fort's security." Yes, that's probably a good idea; the Iron Fort doesn't have Mammon living in it keeping the entire building secure. Well, it doesn't yet.

"Boss." Pýř leaves. Possibly to talk to security people.

"Pixie?"

"Yes, crow?"

"You ever notice something off?"

Xanna thinks about it. "Remember second year?" she says eventually, voice slow as she parses out the details in her mind. "That teacher who went on a killing spree one weekend then committed suicide?"

"Found out his Don's brother was into kids and offed him and all his friends?"

"Yeah. It was out of character." It never quite sat right to Xanna; that teacher had been a teacher because he really wasn't violent and was in fact the kind of person who saw the best in everybody. Not a pushover, but genuinely kind in a firm way. Reporting the wrongdoers to Don Vongola would have been more plausible.

"Hm." Her Sky stares into space for several long seconds. "True."

"It didn't feel true," Xanna says, trying to put the feeling into words. "It really happened but it didn't feel true."

"Anyone else like that?"

"A few people we met in bars who creeped me out, but that's all." Some people just feel like lies, like they've told and lived them so long they have hollowed themselves out completely and don't care. She prefers to avoid those kinds of people; her Lightnings don't always know who they are but that's due to abuse stunting them and lack of emotional connection, not deliberate self-mutilation.

"Hm."

Xanna hopes he doesn't get too obsessed with this particular breach in Vongola security. Vengeful ghosts are not exactly a normal kind of hazard.

* * *

She hates these kinds of meetings. Well, maybe 'hate' is a bit strong; she really doesn't like these kinds of meetings. They aren't pointless, exactly –they do serve a purpose– but nothing actually happens in them.

This meeting is so Xanxus can tell all the Alliance Dons what he is going to do about the Vongola-wide mistreatment of Lightnings. Then, after they've all protested and objected and gotten offended, he will tell them why he's doing it. Then they will hum and frown, come up with alternatives and sabotage each-others alternatives for hours on end, and then Xanxus will call them all to order and say again what he is doing about the Lightning issue, touching on why it best serves the most pressing concerns that have surfaced during the meeting, because he already knows those are the main concerns these men have. They will then all hem and haw but agree that it sounds best, shake hands and go home feeling that their concerns have been heard and that it's a wonderful idea.

It's tedious for her, since she attends these meetings as a Vongola Guardian which means she is there to keep order on Tenth's behalf, generally by flaring her Flames and smiling toothily whenever anybody forgets their manners. Sadly she does not get to do much reprimanding of misbehaving Dons these days, because they've all got with the program and noticed that personally insulting the new Don Vongola or his Guardians will earn the transgressor a private chat with said Vongola Don afterwards to 'discuss' the issue.

Don Cascatoni has been impeccably, compulsively polite ever since, which is a wonderful change. He also flinches whenever Tenth smiles in that particular sharp and hungry way that indicates you've made a mistake he is going to destroy you for.

Xanna loves her Sky and all his smiles.

She still doesn't want to be in this meeting though.

Mammon is happily buried in the Vongola Financial Division and terrorising everybody in Supply, Logistics and Legal on the side, so is far too busy to sit in on one of these meetings even if they were inclined to do so. Bel is nine and lacks the patience for this kind of adult self-indulgence. Lussuria is currently eyeball-deep in the latest Vittore health complication –puberty is bringing all kinds of issues to the surface– and that is far more important, Pýř when offered a choice between the meeting and covering Varia paperwork agreed to do the paperwork and Squalo informed her he didn't want to miss any more school. While smirking smugly.

Shitty shark.

So here she is, standing at her Sky's shoulder as he sits in a comfortable chair at a mostly-round table with all the other Alliance Dons, all sixteen of them. There are of course more than sixteen Alliance families, but the others sprung up under the Vongola and are therefore subordinate rather than families which were once independent and pledged their territory to the Vongola, joining the Alliance in exchange for protection and access to Vongola assets.

Don Cavallone is not one of these, being technically an Allied Family rather than an Alliance Family. Don Cavallone is not pledged to Don Vongola, so is not subordinate; however the Cavallone only have the Vongola –and the mess that is Palermo– as neighbours, so there's a longstanding relationship there. Nonetheless, Vongola Law does not apply in Cavallone territory. The Cavallone have their own rules, although many of them do correspond to Vongola ones. Along with a strict 'extradition policy' for offenses committed against each-other.

The Giglio Nero are another Allied Family, but one that the Vongola has far laxer relationship with as there are no actual borders in common.

Alliata, Bianchi, Cascatoni, Diadone, Esposito, D'Ignoto, Lanza, Molinaro, Prizzi, Rocca, Scarlatti, Superbi, Tegliori, Vezzini, Visconti and Zanasi; all so very different yet all following her Sky, because they believe he will be good for their families.

She would appreciate them more if they didn't all argue so much.

It would be easier to just let the words wash over her and pick out details if she wasn't feeling restless. If this meeting was a negotiation then she could channel the restlessness into focus and drive, but she has to stand here and look decorative.

Hands clasped behind her back, Xanna fiddles with her engagement ring, feeding tiny Flame-traces into the circuitry and enjoying the subtle Sky hum, distinct from the larger matching presence in front of her.

There are so many more interesting things she could be doing right now. Like cuddling her fiancé; climbing into his lap and having a long, heated make-out session. Or sitting on the edge of the table and clutching at his shoulders as he kisses her senseless and she rides his fingers.

Oh look, her sex drive is in fine form today. Well, it's not like anybody here is going to notice if she does some fantasising…

It's five months until her wedding and she's not entirely sure she wants to wait that long to find out how much fun she and Xan can have with intercourse. What might it feel like if rather than sitting on the table riding his fingers, she was riding his cock?

Hm…

Very… stimulating thinking. It's a very easy image to conjure too…

Xanna goes on playing with her engagement ring behind her back as she fantasises in luridly explicit detail about all the fun sex things she and her fiancé could be doing right now if they were the only people in the room. As expected, nobody notices that she's not paying an iota of attention to the discussion. Her default facial expression is 'not quite present' so there's no change in expression when she's actually daydreaming.

Her Sky's Flames twitch; is that irritation? Well, Don Scarlatti has been sniping intermittently at Don Prizzi, Don Rocca and Don Zanasi for half an hour at least, ever since they both sided with Don Superbi over the matter of funding; the Scarlatti and the Superbi have had a low-level feud going since Quinto came to power over a century ago. Well, the Scarlatti have; the Superbi don't seem to care.

She can't see the look on Xanxus's face, but it clearly expresses his displeasure as several other Dons catch on to the shift in the Vongola Tenth's mood and make an effort to move the meeting onwards. These efforts catch the attention of the other Dons, who also get their act together and stop being quite so petty.

Xanna is still cheerfully fantasising when the meeting finally wraps up three-quarters of an hour later and she has to follow her Sky around as he shakes hands with everybody before they leave, them making meaningless conversation and him thanking them for their support. Then when the last Don has left the room Xanxus firmly closes and locks the door, turns on her and bodily pins her to the wall.

"You bloody tease," he growls, lifting her right off her feet as his hips grind against hers, the hardness of his groin pressing between her legs and making her gasp. What–

"You noticed?" How had he noticed? It wasn't like she'd been projecting!

Her Sky tosses his suit jacket backwards onto the table, yanking her open Varia jacket off her shoulders and sending it flying as well. "Ring has my blood in it pixie," he rumbles, biting gently along her jaw; "Flame resonance. _Close range_ resonance."

She was playing with it and her Flames throughout; whoops! Hilarious though; she can't help the giggles.

"Halfway murdered me," he continues, Flames now radiating lust, amusement and urgency rather than tightly coiled frustration, "your dirty mind, pixie; nearly kicked them out early." He palms the back of her skull and kisses her fiercely, muffling her helpless mirth.

Yes. This. She wants this.

"Going to make, my dreams come true?" she giggles when they finally surface for air. The way the hand on her thigh convulses and the startled groan her question elicits are utterly delicious.

"You want?"

"I want." She doesn't want to wait a moment longer.

Her fiancé hugs her close, turns and carries her the few steps it takes to sit her on the edge of the table. "Sure?" He murmurs in her ear as he tugs her boots off and strips off her leather trousers and underwear.

"Certain," she assures him, unable to suppress the smile on her face or the laughter still shaking her. Poor Xan, trying to be responsible and serious and professional while she was pushing all those dirty thoughts at him!

"Then I'll begin," –fingers slide inside her and she moans– "at the beginning. No rush," –his other hand is clamped down on hip and she can't move– "enjoy the moment." He kisses her again, tongue tangling firmly with hers as he pumps his fingers into her with maddening slowness.

"Crooooow," she whimpers in a pause for breath.

"Tormented me, for over, an hour," he growls between kisses. "Want to, wreck you, back."

"Want you, _in_ me."

She feels that hit him, body and Flames shuddering. He bites down on her lower lip. "Patience."

Xanna opens her mouth to say that she doesn't _want_ to be patient today, but then his thumb starts playing with her clit and coherence evaporates.

He does wreck her. Completely. It's some of the best sex she's ever had though, despite the awkward newness of intercourse and her fiancé breaking down into laughter at some random thing she says halfway through which sets off her giggles again.

She's still giggling afterwards, brain fully of fizzy sex hormones, body aching beautifully and legs completely useless.

* * *

June starting is very satisfying for Xanna this year, as it means she can shove all the boring Vongola Guardian jobs onto Squalo, who is acknowledged as being the Tenth's Right Hand. So he has to go attend all those annoying meetings and shadow their Sky everywhere during the summer. Not that there are meetings in August since everything grinds to a halt in the summer heat, but it's nice to get a break and know that he's getting his comeuppance for laughing at her.

Xanna of course still has to do Varia paperwork, teach her octet of apprentices, keep an eye on the Vittore and check up on the fosterlings, but that's less irritating than dealing with stuffy Dons –or sneaky self-interested ones– and she doesn't mind it.

Currently she's arranging the paperwork for Camillo Bianchi to attend the Academy come autumn; he's been home-schooled up until now but he's both highly intelligent and very musical, so he's probably going to end up in arts track. Not that there are tracks until middle school, but the elementary school does offer a range of afternoon and evening classes so that students can find out what they like and start specialising early.

Takeshi loves sports even though nobody in Italy plays baseball, so he's probably going to end up in sports track. Natsuki has decided she is his role model and wants to do diplomatic track, although that isn't an option until high school so he's probably going to pick language track –the middle school track that provides a gateway into diplomatic track– or else just stay in the 'non-specialised' track since he's fluent in ten languages already. Tsuna… Tsuna is probably going to be homeschooled next year as well, since he's not recovered from his sealing and still bursts into Flames whenever his emotions overwhelm him. This is a frequent occurrence, as he still has the fierce emotions of a five-year-old and struggles to stay in control of them; his emotional development has been stunted and is lagging despite his now-unsealed Flames accelerating his growth.

Alessia Scarlatti is already in high school and has quietly requested to be moved from arts track to science track, which Xanna is arranging the paperwork for. She's delighted that the teenager asked, as Alessia was raised in a very controlling household and Xanna had been a bit concerned that the teenager had entirely lost the inclination to ask for anything. This is proof of spirit and courage and she is cheerfully indulging it.

Alessia and Camillo are the only fosterlings with parents whose welfare and education she has completely taken over; the others have partial custody contracts, where their parents continue to make all the educational decisions but the kids spend some afternoons and weekends at the Iron Fort with Tsuna and the more social Vittore. Of course if Xanxus feels they would do better changing their education then the parents will probably go with it, but he –or Xanna as overseer of the family side of things– has to discuss it first. Equally, if the parents decide they want to end the fostering arrangement they have to talk to Vongola Tenth beforehand.

Xanna could have picked out a dozen kids to be Tsuna's constant companions, but she decided early on that was far too elitist when there are almost fifty established families in the Vongola overall, so she has thirty-six 'part-time' fosterlings, each of whom visits the Iron Fort on a set day of the week and alternating Sundays; six a day from Mondays to Saturdays and twelve on Sundays, with one Sunday in four being free of extra children underfoot. Of course this is without counting the Vittore bringing friends home from school with them now that they live somewhere it's safe to do so, so most days there are over forty kids running around the house and grounds.

It's very lively, especially when the fosterlings bring along relatives the same age; Signora Vongola loves it. There are lots of arguments and fights as well, but all the Alliance kids defer to Tsuna due to him being a Sky so very few arguments have needed her intervention. Yet. That's probably going to change once they get properly stuck into puberty; all of the part-timers are within a school year of Tsuna's age, so the oldest is nine and the youngest is five.

She is currently considering picking up a few more teenagers to keep Alessia company. Only considering at this stage though; being 'oldest fosterling' means every other child in the building looks up to her and she's flourishing under the attention.

Xanna also has eight orphans in her care, whose extended families have decided that growing up in the Iron Fort will provide them with better opportunities and support than entrusting them elsewhere. Their ages are considerably more varied –oldest thirteen, youngest four– but they fit in with the Vittore and seem to be settling in well. The more varied ages mean they see less of Tsuna during the day, but more of him in the mornings and evenings after the part-timers go home. This creates a somewhat sibling relationship, which Xanna is cheerfully encouraging. Tsuna is an only child and needs to learn more of what it means to be family, so being around people of different ages who treat him like a brother will help him there.

The door to her office opens and Squalo walks in… with a little girl balanced on his hip. A little girl with his hair, skin and nose; a sibling? She hadn't known he had siblings! Xanna gets to her feet.

"Xanna, this is my sister Delfina," Squalo says before she can say anything, "she's six and she's doing the ignoring-thing some of the little Vittore were doing last year that you had them checked over for here and in Vongola Medical." Using her name makes it clear this is not a Varia matter.

"The one that had four of them diagnosed with Creep and the other one put into a specialised therapy program?" she asks, walking around the desk and over to him. That had been a very upsetting week and Xanna had then had _all_ the Vittore examined for Creep symptoms.

It is as a result of those checks that half the Vittore are Active, which makes running herd on them increasingly challenging with every passing day but on the upside none of them are developing severe psychological pathologies. Which are what Flame Creep eventually turns into when it doesn't kill the afflicted outright; it's a horrifying problem in children with a strong genetic propensity for Activating their Flames and is a kind of semi-Active state that eats away at the brain and nervous system in varying ways depending on the Flame-type of the afflicted. Becoming fully Active stops the problem escalating but it doesn't fix the damage. Luckily they caught it early and now know it's an issue, so mitigation strategies are in place and seem to be working. Neuroplasticity is a wonderful thing, especially in children.

Her fellow Guardian nods sharply. "Parents took her to an otorhinolaryngologist who said there's nothing actually wrong with her, so they arranged for her to learn sign language since she's allowed to not talk if she doesn't want to. But," he hesitates.

"But the specialist at the Vongola said it's hard to spot Creep unless you're looking for it and you're worried." Never mind that choosing not to verbalise at all indicates that Delfina feels insecure and unhappy about her home life.

He nods again.

"And as your legal guardian I have a degree of latitude over anything that affects your wellbeing, including the wellbeing of close relatives." There's a lot of interesting paperwork involved in making the Sky-Guardian relationship official when one or both of the parties is underage.

Another nod.

"Let's take her down to Medical and see what they think then." If Squalo's worried then something probably _is_ wrong; he's got very keen Flame-senses. "It's nice to meet you, Delfina," she adds, looking the little girl in the eye while signing clearly, "and I hope your brother will bring you to visit more often, so you can play with the other children here." The more traumatised children do not attend school and are tutored privately in-house; Xanna is putting off moving them to the Iron Fort until she moves out too, as these are the ones who most frequently show up in the suite at odd hours, seeking reassurance.

Delfina signs that she doesn't like loud people.

"True, some children are very loud," Xanna concedes, still signing along, "but some of them are quiet and we have special quiet rooms where loudness is not allowed. You could play there. Some of the other quiet children don't interact much, but it's nice to have company nearby even when you're doing something by yourself." She has a little four-year-old who is probably autistic and has exactly three people who are allowed to touch her and a non-verbal Cloud, whose ongoing issues might be Creep-related but might also not; it's hard to tell in a six-year-old, especially an Active one.

The suspicious look the little girl gives her is exactly like the one her big brother always has when he thinks she's trying to trick him. It's cute and hilarious.

"Your brother can show you after your check-up," Xanna goes on, smiling at the six-year-old then turning back to Squalo. "Shall we?"

* * *

"Cavallone, stop."

Cesco pauses, partly because Xanxus had grabbed his writing hand and firmly confiscated the pen.

"Vongola?"

"Horse, you look like shit," her Sky says bluntly, getting to his feet, tossing the pen onto the desk and gently dragging his fellow Don away from the paperwork. "Break time."

"But the–!" Cesco protests, waving a hand at the stacks of paperwork bracketing his workspace.

"Like you're in any condition to deal with it, moron," Xanxus scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Need to damn well sleep, horse."

The bruised smudges under their friend's eyes and his general pallor are very worrying and this whole meeting Xanna has been silently fretting about how slow he's being. It seems her Sky has decided enough is enough.

"Xanxus I can't."

"You will," her Sky insists, implacable as a mountain. "Now." He hauls the older man over his shoulder and heads out of the office, Xanna right behind him. Cesco sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose while hanging down Xanxus's back, but doesn't struggle; not entirely stupid with exhaustion then, good.

Xanxus unloads the Cavallone Don onto a sofa in a small, north-facing sitting room not that far from the office, a room they've sat in before on summer days which has very comfy furniture. "There, sleep."

Cesco rubs his eyes. "You say that but I really can't, Xanxus." Insomnia? That's not good.

Her Sky bends down so he is nose to nose with his fellow Don. " _Sleep._ "

Xanna can feel the power of that Mist-suggestion right across the room, backed up as it is by Sky Harmony; their friend's eyes roll into the back of his head and he relaxes into the cushions.

"Better," Xanxus mutters to himself, shifting the unconscious man into a more comfortable position on the couch. "Idiot."

"We need to visit more," Xanna agrees, "and get him to visit more." Yes, the Cavallone's financial situation still isn't brilliant but it's much better than it was and there are no outstanding debts to anyone except the Vongola now.

"Will tell Mammon to ease off," Xanxus decides, thoughts clearly running parallel to hers. "Count it as an investment not a loan."

"That will help." She settles in one of the generously proportioned chairs. "He needs Guardians; his people are too busy deferring and idolising to make him take care of himself." Yes, Cesco's family adore him but they're all very firmly subordinate, which isolates him. Dino's there, but he worships his big brother too much to see how terrible the man is at taking care of himself when he's worried about other people.

"He doesn't get it."

Interesting statement. "Cesco doesn't understand what Guardians are?"

"The old Don never had proper ones," her Sky expands, "so might not have known either." A pause. "Doesn't want what his father had."

Xanna ponders this. She also ponders the issues connected to education that the Lightning project have brought to light; namely that none of the Dons really want centralised Lightning training due to loyalty issues. The loyalty issues being, they want their Lightnings to be loyal to _their_ families, not to the Vongola first. Xanxus would like to set up something shared like the Academy, but current Lightning training is so dysfunctional that he really needs to supervise it closely at the start so there's a clean break. Yes, they both have high hopes for Lorenzo, who really is very good with kids, but he's not going to college until September and won't be trained and able to help for another two or three years. So Xanxus is probably going to push this through regardless and annoy everybody in the short-term.

"Cesco needs family-orientated people," she says slowly, "to look after him and remind him that the money is secondary to all the people being loved and cared for. And that 'family' doesn't just mean the Cavallone; we're his family too and we worry." It they find a good match then their friend may well bond despite his misgivings, which will make explanations easier.

Xanxus makes a grouchy noise in his throat. "Tegliori."

Oh. Well, it's for a good cause? "Someone from social track, possibly?" she suggests, not feeling much happier about it than her Sky; Tegliori are impossibly stubborn and narrow in outlook a lot of the time, despite also being intensely family-orientated.

"Will talk to Emanuela," Xanxus decides with a sigh, throwing himself into another armchair, kicking off his boots and propping up his feet on the coffee table. "Probably knows somebody decent." Emanuela knows far more people than really makes sense, despite being less aggressively connected than Falena.

"I'll ask Didone," Xanna agrees; Didone has a very different social circle to most of the rest of their old classmates, seeing as her mother is somebody's mistress and that closes a lot of doors while opening other, less obvious ones.

"Nap first," Xanxus reminds her, closing his eyes.

"Yeah, nap first." May as well and it's not like she couldn't do with a few more hours sleep, seeing as it's starting to get hot enough that she's barely managing to sleep six hours a night. Summer is terrible.

* * *

It is the middle of the afternoon. In the middle of July. It is too hot to think. It is too hot to _breathe_.

Except that Natsuki has just given himself a near-death experience so rather than lying on the cold marble floor in the suite office and dozing fitfully Xanna is hovering in Medical –which is at least air conditioned so not suffocating– waiting for the verdict.

She is also waiting for him to wake up again so she can shout, because according to the bystanders he did this on purpose. Is he suicidal? Since when? Did they just not notice? What else have they missed?

Tsuna is crying –eyes bright orange and tears limned in Flame– as he clutches at Takeshi and Camillo, who are both clutching back despite the sticky heat. Takeshi has a flat, vacant smile on his face that suggests Natsuki is going to be passive-aggressively reminded that he made Tsuna cry for the rest of his life, while Camillo is seething and muttering irately about what a moron the illusionist is and that he'd be less hassle dead. Not that the silver-haired boy means a word of it; it's just how he expresses concern.

Xanna is pretty sure that Camillo and Tsuna have bonded, which is pretty quick considering they've only known each-other for about four months. That implies a fairly profound personal affinity; not as deep a kinship as between Tsuna and Natsuki, who bonded on sight, but still very close. Considering that traumatic formative experiences shape and limit bonding conditions to people who have similar experiences and Natsuki is a former test subject who was systematically abused and betrayed by the adults who were supposed to be caring for him… that says bad things about Camillo's upbringing. Even without the rumoured poisonings.

Takeshi's case is different: he knew Tsuna for years before actually bonding –knew him even before he was sealed in fact– so that connection is probably the healthiest and most normal their little Sky has. Which since Takeshi has an assassin's temperament is not saying much.

Of course Xanna's not really got a leg to stand on; in retrospect she and Xanxus bonded near-instantly, as did Xanxus and Squalo and she's pretty sure her Sky's bond with Belphegor was equally immediate. Lussuria took a bit longer and Pýř longer still, but in their little crew Lussuria is probably the most normal one. Which again, says nothing good about their collective mental health and formative experiences; Xanna isn't sure about Mammon though. In that she isn't sure whether they've bonded or not; they certainly aren't acting any differently.

Lussuria emerges with two Mists at his heels, all three of them looking irritated. "Psychic trauma," the Sun Officer says with deceptive brightness, "again. Should wake up in the next few days."

Tsuna wails and buries his face in Camillo's shoulder, sobbing loudly as his emotions fluctuate between relief and horror. Xanna catches the implications and frowns; she needs to talk to Naomi. She also needs to talk to Xanxus about making sure all the Vittore are _explicitly_ aware that Estraneo training methods are _not_ sane, sensible or beneficial. Preferably before they too land themselves in Medical.

God, this is Squalo cutting his own hand off all over again, except Natsuki is nine not fourteen and mutilating his mind rather than his body.

It's too hot to breathe outside Medical and yet she still needs to go and run through a training routine or three to burn off her frustration, horror, grief and hurt. Well, it's as good a time as any to see if she can get a temperature-reducing Enchantment to stick in a training room in blatant defiance of the laws of thermodynamics…

* * *

"Hey, nice Alteration!"

Xanna pauses in her assault on the sandbag and turns to look at the Mist who just bounced into the room. "It's not an Enchantment?" She'd thought setting up a temporary change was an Enchantment.

Maínomai grins. "Enchantment is 'this happens because I say so'. Alteration is changing things so the thing runs itself."

"So my making the ceiling absorb the heat out of the air until the room is at twenty-two degrees Celsius and keeping it there is an Alteration."

"Yep!" Her friend bounces on his toes. "It's a really nice one too: simple, effective and not at all disruptive. Wow, it's really nice in here; I've missed the cool. Can I stay? I promise not to be distracting!"

"Shut the door, you're letting the cold out," Xanna tells him easily; so she misunderstood something fairly fundamental in how Mists do things, okay. Getting any other misconceptions corrected is probably a good idea then. "Talk to me about Alterations, please?"

Maínomai shuts the door. "Erm, really? I can go on for hours and get lost a lot."

"You're really good at Alterations and as that's probably my area too, since I made one thinking it was an Enchantment, then I should learn from the best," Xanna tells him. "And you are the best person in the Varia at pure Alteration." Everybody says so and she could do with a distraction from Natsuki's bout of self-harm.

"Er, wow. Um," her friend rubs his hair sheepishly, "okay. Well. Alterations!"

Xanna settles into a slow series of cool-down stretches as Maínomai gets his thoughts lined up.

"Right, well I said Alterations are changing things, right? Well, that's all it is, but that doesn't really give you much of an idea about the scope. An Alteration is a concrete permanent change of some kind, either to the physical nature of a thing or to an abstract rule like you did with the ceiling, where you bent the laws of thermodynamics. You said 'okay from now on this will happen' and so it's going to go on happening until you change it again. It's permanent." The tall Mist gestures expressively. "Of course like that it sounds a bit basic, but Alterations are really easy to layer _because_ they're permanent. So you can do all kinds of fun things and they won't interfere with each-other. Or if you want them to then they will, but only in specific ways that lead to new things happening. And you can add in clauses, like the temperature thing you put in this one and it really is completely gorgeous, especially for a first-time try. I mean it's basic but it's still very elegant and I really hope you leave it because it's just pretty, you know? The way you used circuitry and Lightning to anchor it in the stone is really neat."

"Well, thermodynamics you know, so I thought of a heat pump, like in a fridge or an air conditioner," Xanna says, gesturing a bit herself. Except rather than the heat coming out of the stone into the air she's 'pumping' the heat out of the air into the stone.

"Oh yeah I see it now; that's so clever the way you made it work on Lightning as much as Mist I didn't realise that was possible," Maínomai chatters on, staring at the ceiling. "Exploiting your Flames' electrical properties to smooth out the temperature exchange and the Hardening to reinforce the Alteration at the same time? That's so cool!" He looks at her again and presses his palms together in a praying motion. "Can we play after dinner, pretty please? We can warp the foundations of the universe together!"

That sounds hilariously like being asked out on a date. Which it definitely isn't, because Maínomai would never do that; he's far too nice and always has so many positive and encouraging things to say about her relationship with Xanxus. There are others in the Varia who are less fond of her; for the lack of kills to her name, for filling the building with small children and for distracting Boss with her femininity. Never mind that it was Pýř who brought the kids in and Xanxus who decided to keep them. "Sounds fun; explain a bit more about Alterations to me now please?"

"Sure!"

* * *

"I wanted to learn more!"

"And you thought three-quarters killing yourself through Flame-trauma and giving yourself another psychic injury would be _educational_?!" Xanna knows she's shouting and can't help it. She's just so upset that she's clearly failed him if he thinks that self-mutilation is the best way to learn new things.

"It worked before!"

"You sound exactly like the scientists trying to justify torturing you!"

"I do not!"

"You do! 'Horrific suffering somehow didn't kill him that one time so let's do it again' is definitely Estraneo thinking!"

"It's not! Shut up!"

"It is!" Naomi interrupts, also shouting and shaking their brother for good measure. "Never do that again! What if it killed you properly? What about me? What about Tsuna? Don't be so selfish!"

"I wasn't going to die!"

"You did die! Lussuria resuscitated you in Medical!" Naomi screams, fists clenched at their sides and face red with fury and misery. "No more dying!"

Natsuki freezes. Naomi pants, tears welling up. Xanna takes advantage to seize control of the conversation.

"Since you clearly don't feel you are learning fast enough I am apprenticing you to Fuseau." Fuseau is the Varia's veteran Real Illusion specialist. "He's agreed, signed your paperwork and now has partial guardianship, as is normal in Varia apprenticeships. He won't take you into the field until he's satisfied with your Quality, but that is at his discretion. And no, you don't get to skip school."

Squalo wasn't allowed to skip school until after he turned sixteen –despite being an Officer– and that sets a very solid precedent. Bel of course never attended school at all, but Bel completed his high school Baccalaureate at nine and is currently partway through a university degree in medieval European politics.

"If I'm an apprentice do I get a Name?" Natsuki asks curiously, voice subdued.

"Yes, he's decided to call you Mukuro." Which near gave her a heart attack and caused a _lot_ of story-memories to slot neatly into place. Of course _now_ she can see it, but it aches that the story version lost so much more than her little shadow has; he's already lost far too much. So many failures there. It helps that her little boy will never be that broken. He still has his older sibling and lots more cousins around him; still hopes and dreams of positive things and wants to build rather than destroy, even though he still wants to be able to fight.

Natsuki splutters. "I am not a corpse!"

"You killed yourself out of short-sighted stupid and we are never going to let you forget it," Xanna retorts dryly, "because we never, ever want you do anything like that ever again. Like how Squalo still gets teased for chopping his hand off." Something all the Vittore know about and join in with, even though Squalo now has a high-grade prosthetic with jointed fingers that he can control with his Flames; Xanxus is working on a better one that will be properly integrated into his nervous system but that's going to take considerable medical research and is probably a few years off. Easily within the decade though.

The Mist on the hospital bed scowls and folds his arms. "Whatever."

Xanna pats him on the top of the head. "I'm going to go tell Tsuna you're awake, so he's going to be in here crying on you in a minute."

Natsuki looks shocked. "Crying?"

"He thought you were dead. You're his first and best friend and he thought you killed yourself," Xanna says mildly. "He is incredibly distressed and was blaming himself for not noticing you were planning this."

"But, but it's not his fault!"

"You want to get stronger to protect him, don't you? So it is sort of his fault," Xanna points out, playing devil's advocate.

"It's not! It's nothing to do with him! I was just stupid–" Natsuki stops dead, breathing heavily and face screwed up as his brain catches up with his mouth. "I hate you."

"Takeshi and Camillo are never going to let you forget that you made Tsuna cry," she says quietly. "But I am saying this to remind you that you are precious to us and we never want to lose you. Never ever. Self-mutilation is never a good idea. Any plan involving self-mutilation is a bad plan. If your plans all involve self-harm then talk to other people and get a fresh perspective; that's even a Varia Rule."

"I'm not Varia."

"You are an apprentice now, Mukuro, so you're baby Varia. Fuseau will be by later to tell you your new training schedule." She bends down and presses a kiss to the top of his head, then another on Naomi's. "I love you both."

* * *

Getting married involves a whole lot more than just proposing, setting a date and going to the registry office when you are getting married in a Catholic church. Or at least trying to get married in a Catholic church. Thing is, Xanna is very firmly not Catholic and Xanxus is deeply dubious about a lot of established Catholic things, which is definitely her influence. The issue is that according to the Catholic Church, Catholics may not marry non-Catholic Christians 'without express permission of the competent authority' and a condition for receiving that permission is for the Catholic parent to undertake to do everything in their power to ensure the children are brought up Catholic.

Xanxus hadn't known this and it's making him even more annoyed at the whole Catholic thing; in fact he's growling and grumbling about getting in a minister of a Protestant denomination in to marry them, which is really upsetting people a _lot_. Xanna privately suspects they will end up getting married in the registry office, or else in a secular building with the Varia's ordained –and somewhat scandalously liberal– priest overseeing the ceremony.

Xanna has suggested they get married discreetly under their respective civilian names in the Palermo registry office with just the other Guardians and his grandmas as witnesses, then have a big formal Vongola event afterwards to satisfy everybody's need for pomp and pageantry, but it is all up in the air still –has been all summer– and it's annoying.

The Church will at least recognise their marriage as valid if they go on and get hitched without getting the appropriate permissions, since she has been baptised and marriage is a sacrament. They just can't do it in a Catholic church. This whole mess is proving very irritating in reminding everybody that she is in fact Not Catholic –something a lot of people probably never considered might be possible– and it's making people look at her funny. Considering it's worse than the sideways looks for being a Lightning, a Varia Officer and having no issue whatever with her Sky's dress sense combined, she's having to take lots of deep breaths and remind herself that people need to be aware of prejudice in order to actually do something about it. The fact that she is Not Catholic is even giving the gossips pause. Oh the scandal.

The Varia are all just as annoyed as she and Xanxus are; almost half of them are also not Catholic –a quarter aren't even Christian– and the ones that are tend to consider the Church to be rigid, backwards and unbiblical about a lot of things, this included. Gregori is not exactly an exception, despite being an ordained Catholic priest. In fact he's way out on the heretical end; Xanna has had a lot of very interesting and uplifting conversations with him since joining the Varia and is very fond of him. Xanxus is equally fond, so the threats of a Protestant minister are definitely just threats; a way to frighten people so that when he officially decides to have Gregori officiate their marriage everybody is so relieved they forget to complain about the whole mixed marriage thing at all.

Of course, the fact that they are living together is also an issue for 'proper' Catholic marriage; that they've always lived together doesn't exactly help there, although that Xanna has very pointedly _not_ been adopted, fostered or in any way officially brought into the Vongola family does help, as in the Catholic Church adopted siblings and stepsiblings are not allowed to marry at all.

"Look, Catholic tradition has the couple marry each-other, right? The priest is just there to provide verbal prompts and be official," Xanna finally says during yet _another_ discussion on the subject with Signora Vongola, after Xanxus has very deliberately got up, walked across the room and punched the wall rather than shouting or smashing his drinking glass. "We marry each-other and that's it; the witnesses are just there to confirm it really happened."

"Well, yes," Signora Vongola admits slowly.

"So we just need to get that nice big fancy hall that got used for the Inheritance Ceremony aired out, ask Gregori to be official and enter it in the ecclesiastical and civil records on our behalf then get on with it," Xanna says flatly. "That way we avoid the whole issue and honestly, the only people I care to have recognising my marriage are God, my husband and the state."

"But dear…" Signora Vongola trails off with a sigh. "Well, I suppose that _is_ all that matters really."

"Do that then," Xanxus says shortly, still facing the wall and radiating ferocious annoyance. Xanna has a feeling that if the wall wasn't stone it would need repairing.

"Plus this way we can fit more people in the building," Xanna says cheerfully. She does not say that this way they can actually use their civilian names on the paperwork too; she wants her name tied to Xanthus Marino, actual person with a proper birth certificate, rather than just Xanxus Vongola, whose paperwork is all fake and fundamentally suspect due to having 'Vongola' on it. Not that she has much better paperwork, but the Varia have at least entered properly aged documents in the formal records in Palermo, so she is consistently extant and citizen outside the mafia despite obviously having at least one foreign parent.

"More?" her Sky asks warily, glancing back over his shoulder at her.

"Well, we can fit all the Vittore and the entire Varia in without it looking like we're short-changing the Alliance and the Allies," Xanna says cheerfully. "I mean, technically the Varia and the Vittore are my side of the family, so equal seats for your side is both traditional and appropriate." She's been officially Varia for longer after all.

"Point," her fiancé agrees thoughtfully, drifting back towards his seat as he flexes his hand. Xanna pretends not to see the bruised knuckles. "Keep people civil too."

Yes, that is a definite benefit.

"Well this will at least be more easily organised," Signora Vongola says with a sigh. "I will hire the hall and send out invitations; it's less notice than I wanted but with the challenges involved I'm sure everybody will understand."

The date's been set for over a year now; Xanna will be extremely surprised if anybody in the Vongola Alliance or wider Allies has double-booked themselves on October thirty-first.

* * *

Xanna greets September with relief at the cooler temperatures, as she does every year despite the corresponding increase in paperwork. As well as other kinds of work.

Some of which are less pleasant than others.

Xanna recognises the cunning and subtlety of Squalo's mother inviting her to visit to discuss the matter of Delfina: this way it is Xanna who is both guest and disruptor of Silvia Soave's domestic arrangements. It also puts the other woman in a position of greater authority, as she is not visiting the Iron Fort as a supplicant and instead expects Xanna to come to her. Of course as Vongola Lightning Guardian Xanna could force Silvia Soave to meet in a place of her choosing, but that would be a petty power play and diminish her own actual authority. She is no less the Lightning Guardian of the Vongola Tenth and guardian to the children in his care outside the Iron Fort than she is inside it.

So she is visiting Squalo's parents in their home in Calatafimi to explain why she has assumed guardianship of their six-year-old daughter as well as their sixteen-year-old son, and why they will not be getting either child back. Squalo doesn't know she is doing this and neither does Delfina; both are confident in the knowledge that the paperwork is binding and their new domestic arrangements are unassailable. Which they are; Xanna is simply explaining the details to their parents, along with all the reasons why attempting to dispute guardianship would be profoundly unwise.

She is not doing this by herself though; she discussed the details with Squalo's grandparents and Don Superbi back in June and Delfino insisted that he be informed should his son and daughter-in-law protest the placing, so that he can assist in the explanations.

It's only taken Squalo's parents this long to notice the new domestic arrangement because they misinterpreted their son's statement of 'I'm taking Delfina' to mean that he would see to his little sister's care over the summer holidays so they could travel abroad without worrying about their youngest. It clearly never crossed their minds that the teenager would abscond with his sister entirely.

Squalo's been more talkative about his parents and home life since entrusting Delfina to her care, if only in private when there's just her and Xanxus listening. His parents' marriage is not a happy one, with lots of loud arguments and passive-aggressive sniping. Not a good environment for a teenager and even worse for a small child; Delfina probably developed Creep in the first place out of a single-minded determination to _not_ hear the fighting.

If you can't hear it, it isn't happening. Not a safe coping mechanism, but an understandable one in a pre-schooler. Children have strange logic and this is a textbook example.

Xanna is wearing her Varia uniform with a pastel blouse and softly delicate shimmery makeup, because she too is capable of subtle power play when she wishes. Yes, she is young and this way she looks even younger, but she is not inexperienced. Ninth played these games too and while Signora Soave is probably better at them, she is nowhere near as threatening to Xanna's health or the wellbeing of her charges as the previous Don Vongola was.

Silvia Soave very definitely was not expecting her father-in-law. First point to Xanna, but seriously was the woman expecting her to come alone? When she is not just a Vongola Guardian but fiancée to the Don? Yes, she could have come apparently alone but there would still have been a Varia assassin lurking somewhere in the background. Or, like today, driving the car and pretending to be Iron Fort staff while ingratiating himself with the housekeeper.

Xanna would never have thought you could slot 'solicitous' and 'Varia assassin' into the same breath, but it turns out she was wrong. So very wrong. At first she just thought it was the Lightnings being clingy but today's driver is a Storm and claims his Officer would be 'put out' if anything happened to her. Like breaking a nail. Or getting ambushed by wasps.

Not that they don't know she can more than take care of herself, but they still feel better knowing there's somebody there, to leer threateningly or offer commentary or just memorise the incident for the edification of the rest of the Varia. Honest, Officer.

The Rains are just as bad in their own sweet way, the Suns are always quick to volunteer to drive her places –and they all drive like life is an action movie– the Mists will wander by randomly or just comment on things afterwards to let her know they were watching and the Clouds…

Clouds are like cats. They leave bleeding, twitching presents on your bedroom floor to let you know they love you. Although that was only once and Xanxus made it clear that in future bodies were to go no further than the office, as the floor and furniture there is easier to clean. Clouds also terrorise people into leaving the country and sending you extravagant apology gifts or vast sums of money to _make it stop_. Or 'just' break all the perpetrator's bones, then do it again once they get out of hospital.

Xanxus thinks it's all hilarious and won't use his Varia Boss authority to tell them to stop. Although that may be partly because the skinless not-quite-dead body in the bedroom had belonged to some snotty hanger-on who muttered scathingly about sex as a favoured diplomatic aid while they were talking to Pantera at last year's winter solstice ball and her fiancé was offended by the implications.

Xanna hadn't been offended. She'd been hurt. Those had been extremely hurtful implications trying to belittle and commodify her relationship with 'Tera –and every other relationship she's ever had– and she hadn't been able to say anything because the man hadn't been talking to them or obviously about them. It isn't true, of course, but that people would think that and say it in her hearing is incredibly unkind.

Hopefully Squalo's parents are going to be polite. Xanna doesn't want to have to remind people that estranged or not, Squalo's parents are his problem to deal with as he sees fit, not theirs. She also doesn't want to have Squalo killing people because they think they've got the right to poke their nose into his family business.

Then again the entire Vongola Alliance has probably heard about the skinned guy by now, despite Iemitsu's death and funeral taking centre stage in the immediate aftermath. Rudeness is less likely when people are aware that bigoted crudity might get them skinned.

* * *

"Do you understand what it means that your son is Guardian to a Vongola Sky?" Xanna asks, rather rhetorically as Silvia Soave and Baleno Superbi clearly do not. It's not due to them being civilians either; they're both intelligent and sharp enough to fully grasp the implications if they wanted to.

"It's an oath of service of some kind, I am told," Silvia says, voice light and brittle. "Terribly feudal, I've always thought."

Feudal. In other words: oppressive, elitist and cruel.

"Perhaps a little, since the Vongola was founded towards the end of Sicily's feudal period and naturally modelled itself after the institutions of its time," Xanna agrees sweetly, reminding them of the continuity and weight of tradition they are attempting to defy, "but what most people fail to realise about Sky bonding is that it is a reflection of a completely normal social phenomenon that all human beings engage in, which is the search for like-minded people. Everybody wants to find like-minded people to engage with and feel at home with, don't you agree? That is how friends are made and lifelong relationships are formed."

"Of course," Silvia murmurs, glancing acidly at her husband.

"With Skies these bonds are simply stronger and more immediate than usual," Xanna continues, "and who wants to be apart from someone they feel a profound and immediate kinship with? When they realise that here at last is someone who understands and shares their feelings? Children and teenagers are more strongly ruled by their hearts than adults, so they react far more dramatically when these bonds are challenged. The Vongola has therefore put rules in place to protect underage Skies and their Guardians, both from separation and from manipulation by outside parties."

"How is this relevant?" Baleno grumbles, drawing another acid glare from his wife. He clearly doesn't really know his children, or care much about what they're doing so long as they're not forcing him to get involved.

"Delfina is the closest relative of Don Vongola's Rain Guardian," Xanna says serenely, "and said Guardian is currently underage. As Squalo's adult proxy I am granted the latitude to investigate any family matter he brings to my attention and take whatever steps I see fit to ensure his continued physical and emotional wellbeing and that of the people closest to him, so that those difficulties do not affect him in the field. Squalo brought his sister to me and expressed concern over her health, as she was showing symptoms identical to certain other children in my care he is familiar with, who were diagnosed with Flame-Creep. I therefore exercised the authority granted me by the Guardian contracts and had her examined by the Vongola's paediatric Flame specialists, who confirmed that Delfina Superbi was indeed suffering from Creep. As Creep is considered a severe and life-threatening Flame disorder immediate steps were taken to halt it, which involve Flame Activation."

Xanna takes a sip of her drink as this sinks in. They should already know this; it was all there in the paperwork she forwarded to them. Clearly they did not take it as seriously as they might have. Then again, Creep is not exactly a well-publicised hazard of marrying for strong Flames and is very rare in healthy, happy families.

"I also attempted to contact you both, but as you were unavailable I was forced to address my concerns to Don Superbi instead," Xanna continues, "who agreed with the course of action decided upon and confirmed that she should stay where her condition and progress could be closely monitored in case of complications developing. I then contacted Delfino here, who immediately came up to the Iron Fort to provide his granddaughter with family-appropriate instruction and discuss how best to arrange her care. Flame-Active children need a supportive, social and consistently supervised environment, which he agreed I was capable of providing based on the behaviour of the other Active children in my care and Squalo's own conversations with him over the past two years." Xanna does not say that Delfina's care up until this point has been negligent and isolating; she does not need to.

"She hates socialising with other children," Baleno says flatly.

"Delfina dislikes loudness, interruptions and arguments," Xanna corrects calmly, watching that barb hit home in how Silvia's eye twitches; so like her son there. "She very much enjoys the company of other quiet children happily engaged in their own activities, and of adults who allow her to dictate the terms of engagement without invading her personal space." Squalo is much the same, if far louder and more violent about it.

"So your confiscation of my child is based on medical necessity," Silvia says quietly, "and to ensure her continued health. But surely those needs can be met just as well at home?"

"Neither of you is Flame-Active," Xanna says bluntly, "which quite frankly is very necessary to effectively supervise an Active child. Delfina's young age means she needs twenty-four-hour supervision and the diagnosis of Creep means she also needs regular visits to a specialist therapist to determine the type and severity of the damage it has inflicted and find mitigation strategies that work for her. Constant and consistent exposure to other children with similar problems is very necessary to keep her grounded and encourage socialisation, which early Activation can easily stunt due to the increased focus and intensity it invariably fosters." She does not mention which Flame-types Delfina has Activated; that is not relevant to this discussion.

"So no."

"I do not think you would welcome daily incursions into your home from half-a-dozen Active and frequently casually destructive small children and their minders," Xanna says diplomatically, "but you are certainly welcome to visit your daughter as often as you like. However please be aware that for various reasons she and the other more solitary children in my care are currently resident in Varia headquarters."

"Reasons such as..?" Silvia inquires.

"Providing a quiet, secure environment they feel they are able to exert control over, limited interaction with adults of their choosing, high-quality medical care in case of accidents, the sheer unlikeliness of them being able to do anybody there any physical harm and so they can see me whenever they want to," Xanna replies promptly. "The assurance that they can crawl into bed with me demanding cuddles at three in the morning is apparently very stabilising." Knowing they're allowed to do it has actually made all the youngest and most traumatised kids sleep far more soundly, as they know it's okay to get out of bed and find her if they have scary dreams.

Delfina has so far tested this open invitation by joining her for midday naps on the office floor, wandering into the bedroom at six in the morning on five separate occasions and one evening trying to sleep in their bed. Xanna curtailed the last one by pointing out that the little girl was intruding on hers and Xanxus's private time, which was very unfair as nobody likes their private time intruded upon unless it's urgent. Was it urgent? Delfina then conceded that it wasn't actually urgent and allowed herself to be taken back to her own room and tucked in for the night.

Xanna finds it amusing and sweet how very similar the two marine-themed Superbi siblings are. She's mostly sure half of why Squalo shows up in the office every day to grumble about school is to make sure he's still allowed to, which says things about his childhood that are upsetting if she allows herself to dwell on them. He's much less tightly wound than he used to be though, which is good to see.

Baleno looks like he will happily wash his hands of both children if it means being able to avoid any Varia encounters, but his wife is clearly made of sterner stuff. "I would like to visit my daughter daily," Silvia Soave says firmly, "at least to begin with."

"Delfina's day starts at seven in the morning and ends at eight at night," Xanna says easily, "so what time is most convenient for you? I can arrange a regular slot so Housekeeping know to expect you and can escort you in and out." Most of the Varia live to erratic timetables due to missions and paranoia, but the kids needs a rigidly regular schedule for their mental and emotional security so they get one. Xanna compromises on her own rather random schedule by always stopping by the 'kiddie floor' before leaving the building to let them know she is going out, and stopping in on her way back so they know she has returned.

"Between four and six in the evening," Silvia decides.

Xanna makes a note. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

"Will you be encouraging my son to pursue a university degree once he finishes school?"

"He is aware that it is an option open to him," Xanna says carefully, since that Bel is studying for a degree is not exactly secret and he's far from the only assassin doing so. What with most of the Varia being between eighteen and twenty-eight in age, at least half of them are pursuing some kind of further education on the side; Xanxus is actually one of them, although when he's fitting the work in she has no idea. Mixing it in with his other paperwork, to ring the changes maybe?

"I would like him to consider it," Silvia says firmly.

"I will talk to him and to our Sky on the subject then."

"Thank-you."

That is very definitely the end of the conversation, so Xanna makes the requisite polite excuses so she and Delfino can leave.

"Didn't need my help after all, did you?" the older man comments once they're out of the house.

"You being there made a difference and you know it," Xanna replies dryly, remembering how Baleno had opened his mouth at several points in the conversation, glanced at his father and then said nothing. Squalo obviously takes after his mother in terms of intelligence.

"True enough," Delfino agrees with a sly smile, "and I very much enjoyed your company. I now feel I have a much better grasp of what my grandson and great-nephew see in you; oh, if only I were a few decades younger!"

"And not married," Xanna adds dryly. Despite being of an age with the late Signor Vongola, Delfino looks far younger and more vibrant than she remembers Ninth ever being, having retained considerably more of his youthful vitality and muscle tone. Then again, that seems to be a Superbi Thing; Don Superbi can almost pass as his son's older brother and Leone's father Servalo, the previous Don, still has a full head of hair and hasn't even gone fully grey yet.

"Hah! My dear Anna wouldn't mind so long as I shared; you're a treasure and Don Vongola is very fortunate," the older man says with a charming and very Squalo-like grin before kissing her hand. "I will see you on Sunday; now you have two of my grandchildren in your excellent care I really should start visiting regularly." He releases her fingers with another sly smile and heads across the drive to his own car as the Varia driver stops the armoured vehicle she arrived in by the front steps.

Xanna, oddly enough, has no trouble acknowledging that she's just been sincerely propositioned by Squalo's grandfather for a threesome; the Rain Officer had to get his outrageous confidence from somewhere and it definitely wasn't his parents.

Xanxus is going to laugh himself sick when she tells him this and Squalo will be mortified. She may have to bring it up over dinner, so as to get them both at once. Delfino's promise of visits will also provoke Squalo into meeting his grandfather at the front door, if only to head off whatever the older man might otherwise get up to. With the Varia.

That's a neat way to get Squalo to spend more time with his grandparents. Sneaky, but Superbi are like that too.

* * *

Don Bianchi is understandably ecstatic that his civilian pianist son has formed a Guardian bond with a Vongola Sky, so throws a massive birthday party for Camillo in mid-September. Xanna manages to ensure the event will be actually child-friendly by saying that Tsuna would have more fun if was allowed to explore without adult supervision, so rather than a show-child event the party turns into an unstructured afternoon with fifty pre-teens running around the house and grounds of the hosting Don.

Having made the event 'child centred' means that the Don can't exactly invite other adults unless they're also parents or the parents' designated minders, so she and Xanxus get to have a slightly less busy afternoon in the Iron Fort and get stuck into discussing how things are going to change after the wedding. Well, that's the starting point; conversation wanders rather, getting side-tracked by Xanna's concerns about how quickly Tsuna and Camillo have bonded –her fiancé shares her concerns there– how well Cesco is taking care of himself –still not great but they have a few leads on people and Didone has taken over the delicate task of introductions– and genealogy.

"So Andrey Nikolayevich arrives in Sicily around eighteen eighty with a wife whose surname looks a bit French but has a possibly Chinese first name, settles in Palermo as a cabinetmaker and gets called 'Russo' by all the neighbours for obviously being very Russian," Xanna summarises, "has eight kids who make it to marrying, second-oldest of whom is Paolo Andreyevich Russo. Six of the other kids vanish overseas, possibly back to wherever Andrey's family was or where their mother's family are –how do you get mixed French and Chinese heritage in the middle of the nineteenth century anyway– leaving just Paolo and his little sister Maria.

"Paolo marries Chiara Rossi, baker's daughter, and becomes a postman. Very popular, knows everybody, has four kids then the First World War breaks out. Signs up along with a bunch of friends –possibly his Guardians since in those days battalions were by town so people who knew each-other stuck together– actually comes back at the end of the war but with only two of his old friends and a bunch of new ones, gets a promotion at work, has another six kids and is postmaster through the Second World War. Second son is Giuseppe Russo, who goes to a decent school between the wars and becomes an artist. Meets a nice girl called Silvia Lanza while painting a mural at her rich uncle's house in the country, marries her and has two kids before Mussolini decides to join in World War Two, which he gets swept up into as a war artist but manages to come home from afterwards and have another two kids.

"Oldest kid is Bartolomeo, who might have had a nasty early childhood since Palermo was completely flattened by the Allies and he would have been six or seven for that, but was probably evacuated to relatives in the countryside by his mother, who definitely had mafia connections. No records for that period but when Giuseppe gets back from the war his whole family is alive and well-off enough to own their own house in a village a bit along the coast from Palermo, so maternal in-laws getting involved there seems very likely. We could ask your grandma, she'd probably tell you."

Xanxus shrugs. "Not that bothered, pixie. Interesting bit is great-grandpa Andrey and where he came from."

"Which is?"

"Not Russia."

"Oh?"

"Got off the wrong boat; Hong Kong."

"Well that might explain where he found his French-Chinese wife," Xanna muses, "and Russia does border northern China so again, plausible connections there."

"Korzarto and wife being Japanese too."

"Yes, although that is a hell of a long way to run in eighteen-twenty-four; I mean, that's before the unequal treaties were imposed on Japan!"

"Doubt they ran to the mainland," Xanxus points out; "lots of dinky islands in the Japanese Archipelago and if they were that Simon Family mentioned a couple of times in First's journals then they probably had Actives with them. Maybe even Flame rings. Can hide an island with a few determined Mists and a way to keep the defences going; like the Archives at the Varia."

That is a very good point. Xanna opens her mouth to speculate further when her Sky glances at the sitting room door and it bursts open, revealing a highly distressed knot of children who are supposed to be at a birthday party. On a completely different estate. Clearly something serious has happened.

"Mamma!"

Xanna quickly Hardens her body slightly so she won't be squashed by the stampede all trying to hug her at once. "I'm here, I'm here," she says soothingly, wrapping her arms around Natsuki and Takeshi as Tsuna drags a crying Camillo into her lap and Can and Malachi flop on the floor to snuggle against her legs. Can is blond with a persistently livid scar running across the bridge of his nose and Malachi wears glasses; both have firmly attached themselves to Natsuki, despite being a year younger than he is and Latent.

"So what's up, then?" she asks as the tears and Flame-broadcast distress subside a little.

"My dad killed my mother!" Camillo wails.

"Lie," Xanna says reflexively, then takes advantage of the shocked hiccup from the little piano prodigy to ask another question. "Who told you that?"

"The maids at the Bianchi's place were gossiping," Tsuna shares softly, petting Camillo's hair comfortingly. "They said 'Millo's mother was the nice piano-lady who visited a few times a year and talked about music with him, but stopped after last summer. They said she was found dead a few days after his birthday last year, having driven off the road."

"True and true again," Xanna agrees.

"They also said Don Bianchi arranged it so nobody would find out Camillo wasn't legitimate."

"Lie."

"So she drove off the road but it wasn't his fault."

"True." Her ability to detect truth is considerably less dependent on other people's awareness of truth than she is really comfortable making public. Xanxus knows of course and the kids all know it's a secret, so they won't tell. The Vittore know all about keeping things in the family for safety's sake and Tsuna understands that people will hurt you over things you do but cannot control. Those are lessons Xanna wishes very much they'd never learned this early.

"She was my mother and he never said!" Camillo grumbles tearfully. "I'm a bastard!"

"So?" Xanxus drawls, raising a challenging eyebrow. Camillo opens his mouth, very sensibly hesitates and closes it again, teeth clicking together firmly.

"What was your mother's name?" Xanna asks.

"Lavina," Camillo says quietly. "I want to know my real name. If I'm a bastard I can't be a Bianchi!"

Xanna glances at her Sky, who rolls his eyes, gets to his feet and digs in a cupboard for a sheet of paper.

"There is a way to find out your real name and verify your heritage," she tells Camillo, "but it takes blood."

"Okay," the eight-year-old snuffles, holding out a hand to Xanxus, who is now holding a sheet of writing paper and a quill that is definitely a Mist-construct. A few seconds later the children are all staring in fascination as the quill writes in blood on the paper all by itself, Camillo sucking absently on his bleeding finger.

"Kanji," her fiancé says thoughtfully, tapping the edge of the paper as the quill falls over and evaporates. Indeed, several of the names on the blood-drawn family tree are in Japanese characters or have kanji mixed in with Latin letters.

"Gokudera Hayato Camillo Bianchi," Xanna reads clearly, fascinated by how the name changes from Kanji to the Latin alphabet halfway through. "In Japanese the family name comes first, so your mother must have named you Hayato. It means peregrine falcon."

"That's a really cool name," Takeshi says instantly, "and now your name matches ours!" True, Tsuna and his other bonded do all have Japanese names. For the time being anyway; he only has three Guardians so far.

Hayato-Camillo is more interested in the other names further up the tree though, so Xanna reads them out.

"Gokudera Lavina," –another name that changes from kanji to the Latin alphabet halfway through– "daughter of Gokudera Seiji and Caterina Soave." Seiji's name is all in Kanji, where Caterina's is all in Latin script. "Huh, maybe you're related to Squalo; his mother's a Soave."

"Similar hair," her Sky agrees as the kids all make variously shocked noises. "Similar skin too." Something around the ears as well, although that might change since Hayato-Camillo is yet to go through puberty.

Names further up the tree are far less helpful; Seiji's parents are barely a smudge and while Caterina's are legibly Bracco Soave and Emilia Ferrara, neither is exactly ringing a bell.

"Can you find out what happened to my mother?" Hayato-Camillo asks, looking hopefully at her Sky. "Please, Tenth?"

"Can," Xanxus agrees dryly.

"Will you? Please?"

Her fiancé shrugs. "Sure."

It will make it much easier for them to pressure Don Bianchi into telling them exactly what he was thinking when he encouraged his daughter to poison his son before his piano recitals, because they do have proof of that now and Xanxus takes a really dim view on child abuse. Which it was to both children; making an eleven-year-old complicit in severely traumatising her seven-year-old half-brother is abusing her too.

Don Bianchi is going to have a very uncomfortable few months; Xanna feels he deserves it.

* * *

"Official Vongola birthday contest." Xanna has no idea what her face looks like but Squalo has drifted backwards into her peripheral vision, Bel has perked up, Pýř and Mammon are emitting a strong aura of 'not my problem' and Lussuria looks a touch concerned.

Her Sky nods, face pained and profoundly apologetic.

"Like Enrico used to have every year that you always made a point of getting me out of the building for." Xanxus had dragged her out of bed at five in the morning the first time and they'd fled out the garden gate with their schoolwork and cash to buy breakfast after taking the early bus to the nearest town, then cadged a lift to school with some random Mafioso whose mother had recognised her Sky and insisted on assisting them. In later years Xanna had been prepared and had made more effective arrangements, including once staying over at Falena's for the night the day before.

He'd told her all about why they didn't want to be in the house that first time over breakfast and the quietly horrific recitation had thoroughly persuaded her that no, they really didn't. The mess and tension they came back to afterwards –the next day, because Xanxus insisted it was not safe to return before midnight– had done nothing to persuade her otherwise and the stories Massimo told had only cemented her aversion. That Ninth had never called her Sky to task over this particular absence had just been confirmation that, while unwilling to curb his eldest's indulgence, he was prepared to turn a blind eye to anybody wishing to avoid the fallout.

She knows enough about those parties to do her utmost to never, ever think about them save in the week before Enrico Vongola's birthday and his being dead now did not save her from the annual near panic attack in late January.

Xanxus nods again.

"And it is _traditional._ " Xanna is vaguely aware that Bel is rocking back and forth and giggling softly under his breath, but ignores it.

"Ninth had them too," her fiancé says cautiously, "but quieter. Just him and his peers. Very civil."

"He was old and probably threw big all-inclusive ones when he was younger," Xanna says shortly.

Xanxus acknowledges the likelihood with a half-blink, eyelids dipping but still giving her his full attention.

They cannot get out of this. It is traditional. It is going to happen and refusing to get involved means losing all control. "What are the rules? All this ludicrous Vongola nonsense has rules."

Pýř huffs and Squalo's shoulders hunch abruptly as he tries to smother laughter.

"Well, it's supposed to just be odd years but Enrico did them every year," Xanxus says, pausing when she holds up a hand.

"If every other year is _traditional_ then we'll do that. After all it's hardly our fault that Enrico was flouting tradition and making everyone cater to him twice as often as was strictly appropriate. This gives everybody a year to prepare for it properly and means they can focus on the wedding this year rather than run around like headless chickens over this." People died at those parties. Not every year, but often enough for it to be a pattern. Xanxus had avoided them like the plague for good reason.

Her Sky groans. "Should have thought of that," he agrees grumpily, pinching the bridge of his nose as there is a chorus of sniggers from the peanut gallery. "I'll sort it out in the morning."

"Tell them we're having a Varia birthday," Xanna decides, feeling rather irritated and wanting to get back at whichever Vongola suck-up suggested this; she is going to ask Emanuela to find out who floated this idea because the rumour mill will already be spinning and that kind of thing is very hard to divert. "With breakfast in bed, corpse humour, trapped gifts and twenty different kinds of cake at tea-time but no actual party because getting two hundred and fifty assassins in the same room is asking for a massacre to happen. Hell, invite them to stop by." They sure as shit won't show up, but it would do them good to be reminded of the Tenth's connection to the Varia and that it definitely isn't going away.

Bel actually falls over he's laughing so hard.

* * *

Xanna opens her eyes the morning after her fiancé's birthday and realises it's going to be one of those days. The sort where everything is flat and muted and she can never find her words and just wants to be left alone to coast. Except that's not going to happen because it's barely a fortnight until her wedding, they're starting to talk to the less flexible kids about moving so they're prepared and Emanuela wants her to discuss honeymoon plans.

She just wants to lie here and not.

"Shower," she tells herself firmly, rolling out of bed before she can think of good reasons not to and stumbling into the bathroom. Xanxus is still snoozing but that's no excuse really.

Her Sky is awake when she emerges again, sitting on the end of the bed facing the bathroom door.

"Haven't been hugging you enough," he says ruefully, getting to his feet and wrapping his arms around her. Xanna leans into the warmth and security he offers and allows herself to be lifted up and sat across his lap, leaning her forehead against his jaw.

This is nice. Low effort and comforting.

"Taking a day or two," her fiancé decides quietly, playing with the wet curls at her nape that the towel around her head has lost its grip on. "Rest, recharge, just be us. Grandma has the wedding in hand, Pýř can handle the Varia and the kids have minders; no Vongola emergencies."

"People will find us," Xanna mumbles, despite the idea sounding exceedingly tempting. A few days of moving at her own pace, being able to hear herself think and no paperwork would be heaven right now.

"Pack a bag, go hide out somewhere," Xanxus suggests, kissing her bare shoulder. "Holiday apartment; Pantera would help."

Yes, yes he would. 'Tera knows how she gets sometimes and sympathises. He has down days too.

"I'll fix everything up," her Sky promises, squeezing her gently. "Say yes?"

She signs a clear affirmative, not feeling very talky right now.

The next kiss is just under her ear. "Thank-you, pixie. Let me dress you?"

Another signed agreement; easier than doing it herself.

"Once you're dressed just lie down again; I'll arrange breakfast and pack and let people know we're taking a break," Xanxus tells her, setting her on her feet so he can untuck the towel wrapped around her and dry her off properly. "Pixie, can you promise me something?"

She makes eye contact and signs a query for clarification.

"Delegate more. Please? I know you like looking after people, but there's only one of you."

Xanna considers this. "Vier is Quality now; so are Ein, Drei and Sieben." Her voice is barely a whisper but Xanxus is listening.

"I'll get the shark to test them."

"If they pass Vier can be GM." The teenager is a flaming extrovert and thrives on social contact; she can take over the emotional labour of keeping the Division in a healthy head-space. "Sert gets Division Squad Leader." That will dramatically reduce her responsibilities.

"Thank-you." He kisses her again, hands gentle as he slides the towel across her skin, chasing water droplets. "I'll arrange more tutors and activities for the kids; Cesco's got some people with the training now."

She signs agreement again; sounds fine to her.

"Lorenzo's recommended a few friends of friends from social track to be full-time carers for the ones who need it; Housekeeping's vetted them properly and I watched the interviews. Can do the introductions once we get back; see how they cope. Seem solid though."

That would be a weight off her mind even though those kids do not take up much of her time; she still worries about them and their minders come to her every time something happens that they don't know how to deal with. Trained nurses would be very welcome.

"Sure," she sighs, leaning into his touch. It's nice being touched. They've been so busy lately that casual contact has fallen by the wayside a bit.

Her Sky dresses her in loose, casual clothing and dries and braids her hair, then tips her gently back onto the bed. "Relax," he murmurs, kissing her again and sliding his hands up and down her arms.

Xanna lies there, eyes unfocused, as he showers and dresses, reciprocates when he kisses her before heading out into the office and then lets her eyes drift shut.

She just feels empty today. It will pass –it always does– but Xanxus will take care of her in the meantime. Will wrap warmth around her to seep into all those empty places and keep her moving just enough that she won't fall over.

This is something else that only started being a problem after moving out of the Iron Fort. Well, in this life; she knows she lost weeks and months to depression back when she was older. The support network she has now is more physically affectionate than her last one; not better, just different, although she has a much clearer sense of purpose now and that does help.

More than anything else, Xanxus wants her to be here. The work she does and the support she provides is sincerely appreciated, but not really necessary. Being loved that much is very comforting on bad days.

* * *

Three days of being cuddled, fed, towed gently along the cliff-tops for leisurely walks and not being asked any questions that require her to do more than object if she doesn't like them leave Xanna feeling significantly better. Not fully back up to normal speed, but much more present and together than she was on Tuesday morning.

Xanxus being Xanxus, managing to seamlessly combine thoughtfulness and unsettlingly acute perceptiveness, drags Pantera over to spend Friday with them. It's raining, so they sprawl on the floor in a tangle of blankets and limbs while the radio plays in the background and conversation meanders lazily all over the place. When dinnertime finally comes around Xanna is flopped across 'Tera's lower back and the Superbi Heir has his head pillowed on Xanxus's thigh, the Vongola Tenth lying on his back next to the older man but facing her instead.

"Need to feed you," the Sky comments idly.

"No moving," Xanna whines; she's comfortable and playing with his hair.

"Call for take-out?" Pantera suggests, eyes closed and voice mellow.

"Pixie, phone?"

"Sure." The wire's long enough for her to float it over to just within arm's reach without pulling the cable out of the wall. Mobile phones still haven't left Research for Development, so maybe she should sic her husband on them. Thankfully as far as the gossips know, currently she and her husband are just taking a little break so as to be in top form for the wedding.

Xanxus doesn't call a take-away business; he calls Varia Headquarters and orders Squalo to bring them food. Which goes down about as well as could be expected, really. The Rain Officer does show up with an insulated box forty minutes later though, grumbling loudly about the distance. However rather than hand over the food and leave immediately he's brought his own meal along too; the sprawl on the floor moves around a bit to allow for plates, cutlery and an extra person but by the time the meal's over Squalo has been fully integrated into the tangle of limbs and doesn't seem to care.

"You all corrupted me," the sixteen-year-old grouches when Pantera comments on how friendly he's being. "Stop moving, you, I was comfortable."

They all end up sleeping in a hot, tangled mess on the double bed in their underwear under the thinnest blanket. It's surprisingly comfortable, even with Squalo somehow having more elbows than is anatomically plausible.

She wakes up the next morning and is halfway through drying off after her shower when she notices she didn't have to talk herself through the steps to get that far; it's so uplifting that after dressing she digs around in the cupboards for ingredients to make sausages and pancakes for breakfast, the smell of which drags all the men out of bed in very short order.

Three of her loved ones are sitting around the table in their underwear, sipping orange juice and waiting for the coffee to brew while debating pancake toppings and trying half-heartedly to sway her into letting them start without her. This is what home feels like.

* * *

Xanna remembers the wedding in snapshot flashes of noise and colour, strung together like beads on a string but not really connected.

Waking up to kisses and her fiancé's deliciously deep voice murmuring about all the pleasurable things he is unfortunately going to have to put off doing to her body until after the ceremony and wedding meal.

Sitting by the dressing table in their bedroom as the bed is taken apart –to be reassembled in their new bedroom at the Iron Fort– and Kuchisake sits on a chair facing her and delicately applies makeup to her face, talking cheerfully about the bets already circulating. Such as how much her fiancé is going to stare when she walks down the aisle and whether he's going to fumble his lines.

Standing outside the building in her Wrath-orange wedding gown, her attendants milling around her wearing dresses in every possible shade of dark; dull red, midnight blue, deep green, blackish purple and more, gleaming like sunlight on crow feathers. Her very own murder of bridesmaids, more than half of them armed.

Her bridal bouquet, a white and leafy declaration of beauty and fidelity and marriage and fecundity with calla lilies, ivy, myrtle and orange blossom –grown very out of season by enterprising Mists– punctuated with mischievous orange hibiscus and pink peach blossom, for sexual willingness and sensual pleasure.

Xanxus in a luminously white silk suit, his tie the same variegated orange as her dress and scarlet pomegranate flowers in his buttonhole bringing out the colour of his eyes. Her Sky, her fiancé, her best beloved, staring at her in awe and delighted wonder that quickly shifts to ferociously passionate desire.

Wedding rings made by her new husband, far harder than gold with cunning circuitry etched inside the plain bands and the deafening cheer from the Varia side of the room as he kisses her.

Teasing her husband about wearing more eyeliner than she is in between letting him feed her morsels of steak and playing footsie under the table.

Francesco making everybody laugh with stories of the first few months of their friendship and some of Xanxus's more awkward teenage escapades, as well as poking gentle fun at how blatantly obvious it is that the Vongola Tenth has been utterly besotted with his Lightning Guardian for at least half a decade now.

Belphegor checking over the car and disabling a number of Flame-pranks in exchange for sushi bribes.

Launching her bouquet with merciless accuracy so it thwacks Federico in the face, making Aria Giglio Nero laugh aloud at his embarrassed grin.

Being driven back to the Varia and tumbling out of the car so they can climb onto Xanxus's motorbike, Varia jacket pulled on over her dress's bodice and helmet crushing her fancy hairstyle as her husband –her _husband_ – lifts her onto the back and climbs onto the front so she can wrap her arms around him.

Passing the Varia perimeter around the modest house in Cavallone territory they've got for a fortnight –Signora Vongola is overseeing Vongola business in their absence and Pýř is keeping everybody else in line– and realising that this is _it_ , she's _married_.

Being carried over the threshold, laughing.

Clothes strewn everywhere, one of her orange satin shoes dangling from a wall sconce and her husband laughing with her, pure joy shining in his Flames as he completes the utter destruction of her fancy hairdo while trying to dodge her fingers as she pokes at his ticklish spots.

Her nerves throbbing in ecstasy as their hearts pound in unison, her husband's uneven breathing teasing her ears as he gasps.

An arm around her middle and a solid weight at her back as she slides into dreamland, utterly content.


	6. Chapter 6

Most of what she and Xanxus do on their honeymoon is actually talking. Talking about the future, about the Vongola and the Varia and important things they want to happen.

"I want kids," her lovely husband says quietly and earnestly as they snuggle on the sofa, the rain drumming lightly but steadily on the windows, "but I want to actually raise them too. Which means changing how the family works, making it less centralised so I have to personally sign off less shit. That way I can actually be a father, but also do random spot checks on every level and make sure shit's being run right." Not relinquishing power but granting more autonomy; enough rope to hope and to hang. Something that definitely needs to be done, considering how populous and sprawling Vongola business interests have become, but that requires finding the right sort of people to pull off.

"How long would that take?" Xanna asks, idly toying with his shirt buttons. She agrees that there's no point in having kids if they're not going to take the time to actually parent them; a few more years would also have the Vittore and other fosterlings be older and more settled, so less likely to take it badly when she's pouring most of her attention and care into a newborn. Continuing to use condoms and other non-pharmaceutical contraceptives will be a bit of a chore, but children are far too precious to take lightly. If she still gets pregnant regardless then it is clearly meant to be, but they can do their best. Lussuria thinks her reactions may be due to the coating on the pills or some filler compound rather than the hormones themselves, but pinpointing the exact issue can wait; they're being safe and that's the important thing.

"Laying the groundwork already," Xanxus admits, twining a lock of her hair around his fingers, "but another year minimum. Maybe two. Got to find the right people –can't leave it all to my Guardians– then spend time with them so they know how I want things done. How is way more important than why; people remember methods longer than aims."

"We are judged on our deeds, not our ideals," she agrees softly. That's a big part of why she makes such an effort to be kind. Kindness is important.

"Hm. Got Housekeeping sorted out at least, so we don't have to worry about domestic shit," her Sky says comfortingly, "and Mammon's dealing with the financial side just fine. It's mainly Personnel, Education and R&D that need working over, although I'm going to have to go through Retired and Legal & Inheritance too, which will be annoying. Legal in particular."

"Lawyers," Xanna commiserates.

"Think I might try and get Falena to help there," her husband muses. "She likes a challenge."

"Hire her away from Don Superbi? He'll grumble you know."

"I know he will, but worth it," Xanxus counters wryly. "Falena's brilliant." He pauses. "Know any cute girls we could tempt her with?"

"One of the new carers is her type," Xanna admits, "and likes women." Chiara Sutera was very happy to learn that Don Vongola doesn't care what her gender preferences are so long as all romance is kept to when she is off-duty.

Her Sky makes a thoughtful scheming sound in his throat. Xanna lets him plot, basking in his presence and Flames and enjoying the quiet. It's been a long, long time since they've had an entire fortnight and nothing in particular needing to be done in it.

"Crow?"

"Yes, pixie?"

"Do some modelling for me?" Whoever furnished the holiday house for them included a dozen of her more finicky house-plants and a lot of photography materials; probably one of her Lightnings helping out there. She hasn't done a proper modelling session with Xanxus since they were in school and right now it appeals; she's photographed a decent number of other assassins over the past few years –including most of her Lightnings– but Xanxus has never been able to set an entire day aside at a point in time when she's actually got the energy and inspiration to do this properly.

"Naked?" Of course he would ask that.

"Naked, clothed, half-dressed; everything," she says firmly.

"Tied up and begging?" Oh her husband is a tease. And very _definitely_ an exhibitionist.

"If you want," Xanna agrees slyly. "Do you want me to photograph you gasping and incoherent and utterly wrecked? Want me to document what you look like when I'm touching you and tasting you and not letting you come? What we look like?" It would be pornographic but it could also be a lot of fun.

He shudders under her. "Maybe," he admits hoarsely.

"Well let me do some regular stuff first and you can decide from there," Xanna suggests easily. It's his body and if he wants her to photograph him like that she certainly has no objections, although if the pictures come out properly all those prints and negatives are getting hidden somewhere discreet under heavy security. Not for sharing at _all_ , not until they are both dead and past caring.

"Now?"

"Later; need to think about setting up lights and props and so on." Photography is an art-form and while candid pictures can be utterly beautiful, proper studio photos need quite a bit of staging.

"Tomorrow?"

"Sure." That gives her time to come up with some set pieces and make a mental list of things to try.

* * *

"So you want Squalo running the Varia for you."

"Can't actually do it myself," her Sky admits ruefully as they sprawl on the grass enjoying the late autumn sunshine, "not with all of the Vongola to run. But if he does the day-to-day I can deal with the big picture shit, run training and take the odd mission now and then. Needs seasoning though."

"So, two years from now? When he's eighteen? Pýř can keep everybody in line that long without snapping and going on a killing spree and seeing how he does things will be educational for Squalo too." Pýř is currently third in command of the Varia –she is second in command– but the Vittore and the fosterlings are her primary responsibility now, so she's in the process of handing off most of her non-Division-related Varia responsibilities to the other Officers.

"He's graduating next summer, so gives him a full year of fieldwork to settle in with," Xanxus agrees.

"Do you know what Pýř wants to do after retiring?" Varia careers don't last long and the Cloud has already been an assassin for four years. He's got another six years in the Varia ahead of him, maybe another eight if he doesn't pick up any serious injuries and paces himself in the meantime, but no more than that.

"No." Xanxus scowls. "Need to ask him, at least so he thinks about it. He's my Guardian and that's not going to change, but work is important." Work helps people to feel valued after all.

"Ask Maínomai too," Xanna reminds him. Those two are inseparable, so Maínomai is probably going to end up getting integrated in the Vongola Guardian dynamic somehow too. Well, more so than he is already; he's a good friend and really helping her with her secondary Flames.

"Going to be _fun_ having those two in the Vongola," her husband snickers.

"Maybe Massimo will want to retire early and we can set them on the CEDEF?" Xanna suggests, mostly as a joke. The way Xanxus perks up and his Flames hum speculatively indicates however that he's taking her idea far too seriously.

"Even if he doesn't retire could still work," her Sky points out. "Decentralising the CEDEF so it's more like the Varia would be more effective, since it's supposed to be an intelligence organisation."

"Save it until you can pin your brother down for a chat, okay? It's his to play with, not yours," Xanna reminds him. "Let him do what he wants with it."

"Truth," her husband sighs, sounding disappointed.

"You can found your own Vongola intelligence operation if you want, you know," she offers. "Mammon would certainly be delighted; they've been complaining about how all the external information arrives through the CEDEF or private gossip channels and there's no structure to any of it and nobody whose job it is to collate intelligence. Yes, the internal women's gossip circles are well-informed and accurate but none of them are getting paid or given training to pick out the important things."

"Not right now though."

"Of course not right now; four years ahead, minimum, to give your Mist time to get the financial side running to his liking and for the rest of the Vongola to settle afterwards." The financial restructuring is going to upset a _lot_ more people as it progresses, mainly lazy or sneaky people profiting off the current system's inefficiencies.

"I'll make a note."

"They might find something by themselves too."

"Whatever they want, pixie. Like it's whatever you want."

She rolls on top of him and leans down for a kiss. "Love you too, crow."

* * *

It's somehow easier to settle in at the Iron Fort after their short honeymoon. Possibly because their new –and much larger– bedroom has all their furniture from the Varia in it as well as some new low shelves and paintings sourced by Makoto-san, but also because all the kids are there and mostly settled in already. Disgruntled about her and Xanxus having been missing for a _whole_ fourteen days, but still mostly settled.

On her first day back Delfina sneaks into bed with them in the morning then follows Xanna around all day, gripping her tutu skirt and glaring at any adult who tries to suggest that they would prefer a private meeting. Including Don Superbi, who clearly finds this behaviour as adorable as she does. Xanna even ends up toting the six-year-old along on her visit to the Varia; Delfina used to live there, she knows the risks and is very sensible about avoiding them.

Of course most of her Varia friends want to ask teasing questions about her honeymoon, but she gets that over with soon enough and then spends an hour talking to her new GM and Division Squad Leader about their duties and how they are settling in. It's going well, mainly; a few hiccups and misunderstandings, but Fünf has thankfully decided that since it's proving incredibly difficult for him to maintain Quality fitness he'd be better off going into Varia Housekeeping, which has quite a few openings due to the numerous transferrals into Iron Fort Housekeeping. Xanna is grateful. She was dreading having to bury him. In Housekeeping he can find something else to focus on; Fünf wants to go into R&D, so ingratiating himself into the Flame-tech and research-orientated portions of Housekeeping will give him a generous head start in that field.

Xanna spends several hours in her Officer office working on paperwork, Delfina sitting on the floor and reading one of the gardening books, although the paperwork is regularly interrupted by other nosy Varia. Including Bel, who climbs into her lap for half an hour to grumble about Boss moving his fairy out and hogging all the hugs.

Squalo is unexpectedly elusive; she waved at him in passing on her way to the office while balancing Delfina on her hip –to keep the little girl out of the Flame-triggered traps littered across the floor– but he's not stopped by to complain about school yet, which is profoundly out of character.

By the time she heads back to the Iron Fort Squalo _still_ hasn't surfaced, so Xanna resolves to mention the omission to Xanxus to see if there's something going on she's missed.

* * *

Don Bianchi starts out proud and voluble, delighted that Don Vongola is so interested in his children. As the meeting progresses however he becomes defensive and blustering, angered and frightened by the questions her Sky is asking and the truths he does not want to face. Xanxus remains calm and smiling throughout, but the smile becomes gradually sharper and more chilling as the older Don digs his own grave with prejudice and thoughtlessness.

Xanna is not the only Guardian standing in this meeting; Pýř is here too. Why the Cloud decided to show up for this she has no idea, but he did and he's here and Xanxus has never stopped his Guardians from doing anything unless it actively impedes his plans.

Now she is Donna Vongola as well as a Guardian, she and Xanxus have decided that the difference in roles in a working context will be determined by whether or not she is standing up. So when she's being Donna Vongola at a meeting she sits next to him at the table in an equally large and fancy chair, but when she's being Lightning Guardian she's standing at his shoulder. That's it. Her clothing and makeup will not change unless she wants them to. Xanxus prefers the Varia uniform to regular suits, so they match regardless.

Xanna is disinclined to be 'Donna Vongola' in public until her husband had pushed through all the reforms he wants and has settled into his role; she is older than him, has been a constant presence in his life and she doesn't want people thinking that it's her running the Vongola, not him. Not when he's put so much hard work into achieving his dream and is still slaving ceaselessly to make life better for the people in his care. So she is standing at his shoulder in the new Varia uniform –a sleekly tailored suit in matt black leather that was clearly designed so that everybody would look smart at her wedding– and not saying a word.

This is making matters challenging for Don Bianchi, who clearly wants to appeal to her 'delicate female sensibilities' and have her give him the benefit of the doubt as Donna Vongola, yet can't get past the social training that Guardians are not to be spoken to unless their Sky brings them into conversation or they volunteer something. He keeps looking at her, seeking affirmation or even just a short reprieve, and she is not offering either.

"What is it that you find so fascinating about my wife, Don Bianchi?" Xanxus inquires, tone light yet ominous.

Don Bianchi hesitates, knowing there's a trap but not quite astute enough to see all the layers. Saying 'nothing' won't help; it clearly isn't nothing when this is the eighth time in five minutes he's looked her way. Telling the truth won't help either as it showcases his weakness and desperation.

He recovers well though. "Shouldn't she be sitting down, Tenth?" A tangent; not relevant to the topic of discussion but a plausible distraction.

"This is a business meeting," her Sky says pleasantly, "not a social event. We are working and my wife is no less my Guardian for having married me." Subtext being, stop staring before I take offense.

"Disrespectful," Pýř comments meaningfully from behind their Sky's other shoulder. Which is Cloud-speak for 'I want to brutalise you _right_ _now_ for this unforgiveable slight but that is unfortunately at my Sky's discretion'.

Don Bianchi studiously avoids looking in her direction at all for the rest of the meeting.

* * *

Aria Giglio Nero is very subtle and clever: her invitation to tea is completely informal and delivered through Federico, as an 'oh she'd like to get to know you better since you're my sister-in-law and her age.'

Those kinds of invitation are the hardest to turn down, as there's no real way to politely decline. So Xanna goes.

It turns out to be a meeting with the Sky Arcobaleno rather than with Donna Giglio Nero, but that's fine. Talbot also being there makes it feel less like an ambush and more like a project meeting.

"Federico mentioned that you'd been the one to notice certain things about the Arcobaleno Curse and tell him," Aria says, pouring her a cup of tea.

"They were pretty obvious things," Xanna admits. "I mean, it's even called a Curse and the whole point of Curses is to destroy people's lives."

"Surprisingly few people make that connection, girlie," Talbot says with a chuckle.

It's the truth but it still seems… implausible.

"The point of the Arcobaleno Curse is to draw Flames away from the strongest six Flame-users in the world to balance the planet's Flames," Aria says firmly. "As the Sky, my duty is to regulate the exchange."

The words 'okay, that sounds fake, but okay,' dance briefly across Xanna's brain, making her wonder if it's a quote and if so, where from; it's very relatable. Very accurate too; she's just been told the truth but it still seems inefficient.

"Why?"

"To prevent the deaths of ninety percent of the people on the planet from natural disasters."

"No, why does it draw Flames away from _people_ to balance the world? Surely it would be more efficient to take Flames from the world, like a safety valve, rather than just making the whole problem bigger?" This is basic engineering; even stovetop coffee pots have safety valves!

In the armchair beside her Talbot bursts out laughing, delighted cackles filling the air as Donna Giglio Nero makes a face like she's just swallowed a bug.

"Oddly enough, nobody has ever thought of that either," Aria says wryly, setting her teacup down. "Theoretically, how would you go about implementing such a system?"

"Theoretically, I would look into ways to store Flames inertly by type, possibly in stone, and some kind of monitoring system so that each Flame reservoir could fluctuate independently depending on whether there was an excess or deficiency in the environment," Xanna says, knowing that implementing this would probably be very tricky and involve a lot of perfectly-calibrated Flame-Tech. "It would also be necessary to set a baseline, as I'm certain that if there's such a thing as too much Flames there's also such a thing as too little Flames. So then the system would be about maintaining the baseline, with possible adjustments to be made later in case the baseline is dynamic."

Biology. Biology is all about dynamic equilibrium. If the balance issue is about life on the planet then it's about biology. She knows biology.

"Very plausible and much less fiddly than what I had in mind," Talbot croaks cheerfully, taking another sip of tea. "A whole new direction to investigate! Thank-you for that, girlie, I will let you know how it turns out."

"Thank-you," Xanna murmurs, sipping her tea and wondering if she's accidentally changed the entire course of the future. This feels significant and she knows the Arcobaleno were major players in that story she remembers that is very definitely not going to happen the way she remembers it.

"It sounds very plausible," the Sky Arcobaleno agrees, her eyes briefly gleaming orange. "Very practical too, especially if multiple reservoirs were made in different places, in case of accident or sabotage."

Ah yes, human nature. Love it or die screaming. "Well if you put them under your family estate then it becomes a family duty, doesn't it?" Xanna points out. "I'm not going to suggest putting them under the Iron Fort –your ancestress already gave use the rings after all– but picking a few families with a mystical bent would probably work. I mean, there have got to be some impressively ancient lineages in China. Probably a good idea to pick places with stable geology though." Sicily does not have stable geology; Sicily has a volcano. The Giglio Nero estate is considerably closer to it than the Vongola are. Then again, if natural disasters are a symptom of the planet's Flames being unbalanced then an active volcano is probably a very effective early warning system.

"You know about the rings?" Aria looks impressed.

"My Sky gave me the run of the Archives after being instated as Tenth; there's more in there than you might think," Xanna says lightly. She's found no less than six hidden cubbyholes keyed to the Vongola Lightning ring that don't seem to have been opened in over a century, all jammed full of letters and journals and sketchbooks in the handwriting of the Vongola's first three Lightning Guardians. There's a lot of unofficial history in there, most of it amusing and on-point and not at all for public consumption.

Including that yes, Third was very _definitely_ carrying on with his Rain in a most unsubtle manner and Third's Lightning took it upon himself to ensure his half-cousin's wife didn't go looking outside the family for comfort and validation. Not that it was at all a hardship for him and going by the journal he adored his daughters. All four of them. He even married their mother after Third was assassinated and had five more.

She is going to have to see how those hidey-holes were made and if she can install some new ones; this seems like an excellent place to hide her own records. Traditional; even her intimate photos of her Sky are Traditional, amusingly. Those sketchbooks… Second's Lightning Guardian had a good eye for shading and contours and the images have a lively vibrancy to them, but Third's Lightning apparently liked spying on people having sex and documenting it. His Sky and fellow Guardians' extra-marital escapades in particular, although the doings of his Sky's siblings and their associates have not been neglected either. Third's Lightning wrote very nice smut about very real people, complete with anatomically accurate illustrations that are probably true to life and far less dignified than Second's Lightning's sketchbooks, the nudes included.

Xanna is now positive that most of the older portraits of Vongola Dons in the Iron Fort were in fact painted by Second's Lightning Guardian; there is a commonality of style there with the sketchbooks.

Half of what was written by Lampo, First's Lightning Guardian, is day-to-day trivialities and domestic gossip, of which there are at least fifteen journals of meticulous detail, right down to which seasonings different people added to their food at mealtimes on specific days. The rest is poetry: frequently scathing, occasionally painfully emotive and always very precisely worded, touching on all kinds of very personal subjects. Reading between the lines, Xanna can see his confused and occasionally frustrated adoration of his Sky, his agonised incomprehension at being abandoned by said Sky, his variously challenging relationships with his fellow Guardians and his utter admiration for his wife. She'd not even known Lampo was married until reading those poems and the journal entries for the same period.

Aria then asks her opinion on some recent bit of gossip, so Xanna sets her musings on secret Vongola history aside and engages in appropriately superficial socialising for the rest of the visit.

* * *

It takes a week for Squalo to show up in her office after school again, and when he does he's clearly stopped off at the Varia to change and dump his school-bag before coming over to the Iron Fort.

"How've you been, Squalo?" she asks as he closes the door behind him.

The teenager shrugs. "You know how it is," he says elliptically, striding across the room –ignoring the assassin sprawled on the couch– and leaning over the desk to push a wedge of paper at her. "Sign this for me, would you?"

Xanna accepts the pages, gets up and walks around the desk to sit on the free couch; her fellow Guardian hesitates for a second, then drags the pretending-to-sleep Rain off the other one onto the floor.

"Out, you."

The assassin leaves, grumbling facetiously about overly sensitive Officers as he closes the door behind him. Squalo drops onto the freshly vacated couch and watches her read from under his messy fringe, posture loose and poised in a way that speaks of underlying tension. He's got his Flames tightly in check, making him even less readable than usual, but there's something cautious lurking there that's bothering her. Like he's afraid of upsetting her. It's pinging her teenage melodrama alarms; Xanxus had various moments of thinking he'd done things she could never forgive him for and he was inevitably blowing things out of proportion, but if Squalo doesn't tell her what the problem is she can't really reassure him convincingly.

Xanna focuses on the paperwork instead. Sports track form, delineating a parent or guardian's authorisation for a student to not attend lessons in favour of pursuing their chosen sport full-time. School waives all verbal examinations and assesses performance exclusively through written work until the end of the year, when there is a full verbal examination of each subject. Additional form waiving those individual examinations because the final year of school involves the baccalaureate exams, as they have an oral section which substitutes for the usual individual tests. Form stating that full records of sporting performance must be kept in order for the school to ascertain that the student has indeed been devoting their energies to their chosen sport, with space to list references for attached material.

Squalo has listed 'swordsmanship, multiple styles' as his chosen sport and meticulously filled out everything that needs filling out except for the space where her signature needs to go.

The rest of the paper is not forms at all; there's a succinct comparison of Varia demographics by nationality compared to the demographics of Underworld organisations by nationality, a comparison of languages spoken by Varia assassins –by Division– compared to the languages of the entire Underworld and six well-written paragraphs on why the Varia really needs to expand its recruitment base to be more global.

Squalo has decent handwriting now he's got used to using his right hand, but this has been written using his new prosthetic; it slants the other way and is considerably smoother. He also makes an excellent point: the Vongola has global business ties but the Varia is not so broadly based. The only Varia born outside Europe, North America and Africa is Lussuria, who is Thai. Possibly only half-Thai –Xanna has never heard him mention a father, only a mother and various aunts– but that's not exactly relevant.

"So you want to go on a world tour to recruit new assassins so the Varia can expand its effective range," Xanna deduces, finishing her second read-through, "and improve your swordsmanship on the side by fighting people who use different styles."

Squalo nods sharply.

"This is a very good idea," she tells him, tapping the pages, "but you doing it with just one team backing you up would take well over a year –possibly two years– and you need to be back here in May for your exams. So my suggestion is that, to sell this to Xanxus, you talk to Information to break down the places on the planet where there's Underworld presence and see how it compares to places with their own traditional sword-styles and schools. Then while you and a rotation of Squads tour the sword-places, the Immortal Squads and other Squads with trained recruiters can go around the places where there's little to no swordsmanship tradition at the same time. That way this whole business takes less than half the time and you can come back and take your exams without interrupting the recruitment, then pursue the swordsmanship angle after graduating without interfering with the recruitment process, if you want to continue it."

Squalo frowns thoughtfully. "That would work better," he agrees.

Xanna hands him back the papers, still unsigned. "Get an itinerary sorted out with a rough timeline and I will happily sign this for you; arrange the comparison for general recruitment and I'm sure Boss will allow you to use Varia resources to set it up without forcing you to negotiate personally with Mammon."

Squalo accepts the papers with gloved hands and gets to his feet. "Thanks, you," he calls over his shoulder as he lets himself out of the room.

That was a remarkably terse encounter. However he could just have been nervous since he was asking her to let him skip the entire second half of his final school year, so Xanna can give him the benefit of the doubt today. If he stays like this however she's going to have to talk to Xanxus, to 'Tera and to Rain Division so she can ferret out the problem; possibly even to Delfino, as the older man has been spending more time with his grandchildren lately.

* * *

"This is Cecilia Bianchi."

Xanna looks from her husband to the pink-haired thirteen-year-old he's brought into her new sitting room and back again. "You are no longer allowed to tease me about bringing home extra children."

Her deadpan levity gets the nervous-looking teenager to giggle, which is a significant improvement over the previous uncomfortable shuffling and faint tear-tracks on her face that hint at a recent emotional meltdown.

"Have you had lunch?" she asks next, looking at the girl again.

The teen nods, glancing up over her shoulder at the Vongola Tenth, who smirks down at her. The blush that sweeps across the teenager's face as she hastily lowers her eyes indicates a crush is fully formed and running rampant; completely understandable, her husband is magnificent.

"Alessia Scarlatti should be getting home from school around now, so if you go down to the front hall and get the staff to point her out when she gets in, she can explain how things work and introduce you to everybody," Xanna says gently. "She can also help you decide if you'd like to work up to attending school." Alessia will be good for this sheltered little mafia princess and having somebody to look out for will give the older girl an opportunity to be a little more sociable than usual.

"Thank-you Donna Vongola," Cecilia murmurs, ducking her head and sidling out of the room, giving Xanxus another appreciative up-and-down glance from behind before closing the door.

"You have a little admirer," Xanna says dryly. "A little admirer with Flames that don't feel quite right to be Storm but aren't anything like anything else either." Her Flames feel too… she can't think of a word. They feel less volatile than Flames usually do, denser and duller and less reactive. Reluctant maybe, or possibly torpid.

"Is like a Storm as much as Makoto is like a Sky," her husband says lightly.

"Isn't Makoto Latent?" She's never felt anything off him.

"No. Underpowered and restrained, not Latent; Emi is Latent. Both have the same Flame though and Enma has his mother's larger reserves."

"So what is it, the liquid Flame-state when our kind of Flames are the gaseous state?" Xanna asks, throwing up her hands.

"No idea," her Sky admits cheerfully. "Going to invite Makoto over and ask."

"Just like that?"

Her husband chuckles, walking over and pulling her into a comfortable hug. "Course not," he says warmly. "Cecilia's been badly trained; she automatically infuses her Flames into food she's preparing. She also likes cooking, so when I say we're having a guest over for tea she will probably volunteer to cook something."

"Which she will accidentally poison with her not-Storm Flame talent," Xanna says sceptically.

"Makoto is Active; he'll notice," Xanxus says steadily. "Then we see what he says."

"Either way she definitely needs proper training," Xanna decides, "the discipline can only help." Cecilia needs to learn awareness and restraint, as she clearly isn't even aware of being Active. If this is how she's been poisoning her little brother then she's been Active for over two years, which will make retraining her a chore and a half. Bad habits are terrible and take immense effort to train out of people; she has more experience in that particular area due to Lightning Division, but her Lightnings are not sheltered mafia daughters in the throes of puberty crushing madly on her husband. That's going to make things trickier.

"After we hear what Makoto has to say."

"As you wish, husband." If Makoto does know what these Flames are then the lore will be very useful, especially if there turns out to be an entire additional Flame spectrum corresponding to the one she's more familiar with. Which there might well be, as it seems plausible. One of those thoughts she can't quite place the origins of yet feels solid.

Xanxus cradles her face in his hands and kisses her. "Lovely wife," he murmurs in a pause for breath. "Couch?"

"Lock the door first." It's after school hours and she does not want any of the kids walking in on them having sex. Or anybody else doing so either; 'Tera's taken to visiting randomly to socialise, cuddle and generally coexist in their space and she doesn't want him offering cheerfully shameless commentary on their sex life.

Her husband tosses an Alteration at the door, jamming it shut. "Now, pixie?" he rumbles, hands sliding down her spine and curling around her thighs.

Xanna starts unbuttoning his jacket. "Please do."

* * *

It is four o'clock on the morning. It is too early for this shit. But clearly Stupid doesn't care about sleep schedules and some moron somewhere doesn't think that a Don and Donna Vongola who are also Varia Quality are capable of defending themselves and their charges in their own home.

The assassins also didn't consider that all the kids sleep dormitory-style, between two and six to a room, and that more than half of them are Flame-Active with two years of being doted on by Quality assassins teaching them fun tricks.

Three of the intruders are scarlet smears on bedroom walls, having fallen foul of panicking Vittore for whom strange intruders at the dead of night mean needles and torture and murdered siblings. Another two have been quietly done away with by Housekeeping, who might not be Quality but are still considerably more skilled than most other assassins ever manage to be. Three more thought that Don Vongola having no Guardians sleeping in his bedroom's antechamber meant it lacked traps; two are dead and the last one probably wishes he was.

Xanna however needs to know whose bright idea this was, so he doesn't get to die yet.

"Talk."

The paralysed and legless probably-Chinese man glares up at her, not uttering a sound. Xanna has no patience for this; her lessons with Maínomai on Alteration and its abstract applications have given her new and unpleasant ideas of things that can be done with Hardness and this seems as good a time as any to try them out.

Hard to remain silent, Hard to lie, Hard to hide anything; " _you will tell me who sent you._ "

She can be Hard to disobey.

He talks. He hides nothing. He dies. Her watching husband makes a few calls and Medical show up to cart off the bodies for autopsy. Xanna stalks out of the room to go comfort her kids.

The last assassin tries to take her down from the shadows as she strides along the hallway and is summarily shredded.

* * *

"A tattoo?"

"Traditional." Her husband glances up from his sketchbook. "Like grandma has."

Signora Vongola's facial tattoo with the flowers is indeed very unsubtle. "Ninth had a tattoo?"

"Upper arms; why he always wore shirts," her Sky explains. "Thought it was unprofessional."

"But since it is Traditional with a capital T, he had to; who started it?"

"First." Xanxus grins at her. "Apparently went and got it done along with G right after deciding they were doing the vigilante thing."

"None of the paintings of First show a tattoo," Xanna says thoughtfully, "but only Fifth has a blatantly obvious facial tattoo like your grandma."

"First's was on his chest," Xanxus tells her brightly, "Second's on his forearms, Third's on his thigh, Fourth's on his back, Fifth's on his face as you said, Sixth had a small one put on his ass and Seventh's was on his calves."

"So what are you doing, Tenth?"

He smiles slyly at her. "Upper back, I think; probably shoulder-blades."

"Any rules about what it has to be?"

"Nope!" her husband chirps. "Doesn't even have to mean anything; just have to get inked."

"So what are you thinking of?" He's clearly got something planned to be this upbeat about it and there's definitely an in-joke. Possibly several in-jokes.

"A pixie," he tells her gleefully, "with green bladed wings. For the pretty pixie who made me Don."

That. That is. That is _true_ she did make him Don he'd never have got here without her shoring him up and reminding him to be sensible and refusing to let him throw it all away how did this happen? How is it she's gone from being determined to show a nine-year-old how to enjoy life to putting him in charge of the world's most powerful Underworld organisation?

"Breathe, pixie."

Xanna gasps obediently, blinks several times and stares at Xanxus. Who is watching her with a fond, wry smile on his face.

"How did we get here?" she asks, still feeling dazed.

Her husband sets his sketchbook aside, gets up and pulls her out of her own chair and onto his lap on the couch. "You showed me I had value," he murmurs in her ear, "that everyone had value. I always wanted to be Don, but you showed me that becoming Don wasn't about acquiring value, but about valuing others. You made me want it for the family, not just for me." He chuckles. "Then you showed me that the seemingly-insurmountable obstacles put in my way were easily demolished with a little perspective and critical thinking. Maybe I could have made it without you, but I wouldn't have been as good for the family. Still better than my brothers, but not the best. That's all on you."

"You chose to be the best," Xanna reminds him. "I just showed you there was more out there you could do with yourself than what you'd already found."

"Still couldn't have done it without you, precious pixie." He kisses her ear.

She can't quite process how large a change she has effected in her Sky's life. She wasn't even trying to change things, she just wanted that wary, prickly little boy to know he was precious and intrinsically loveable, that he didn't have to change himself to be valued. That was it.

"Got a design in mind?" she asks instead, not really sure how to think about the other thing.

"Mm-hm," he agrees, picking up his sketchbook again and showing her the lithe, naked silhouette limned in green, a spiky blade-wing adjacent to the back of its shoulder also in green; "thinking about having a crow on the other shoulder."

"Or you could put the crow on my shoulder, I suppose."

He pauses, tilting her head back so he can look her in the eye. "You'd do that?"

"First got his done with his Right Hand, didn't he? I'm not that but I am your first Guardian," Xanna smiles, "and you are my crow." It's sappy and romantic but she kind of likes the idea despite her previous feelings about tattoos, which were mostly along the lines of 'pretty but not for me'.

Her husband very deliberately sets his sketchbook aside, cradles her face in both hands and kisses her, tongue caressing the inside of her mouth and sending shivers up her spine. Then he pulls her closer, one arm wrapping around her shoulders as the kiss turns fierce and heated and Xanna lets herself be dragged down on top of him.

* * *

Makoto has by now been informed that his best patron is a distant cousin –Grimm Squad have managed to prove a connection– and visits regularly whenever he's not out of the country on business, so introducing him to Cecilia is less about setting something up and more about waiting for him to get back, which he does in the first week of December. Emi and her two children are now living in a rented apartment in the nearest town to the Iron Fort –since that is cheaper than hotels in the medium term and she and her husband are both very family-orientated– and Enma and Mami can usually be found running around with Tsuna and the Vittore almost every day.

Neither of the Korzato siblings attends school, being home-schooled to the Japanese curriculum, but all the Vittore speak Japanese and the part-time fosterlings are putting lots more effort into learning the language since Tsuna is half Japanese, so there are very few communication issues beyond the usual hazards of language and interpretation.

Xanna is mostly sure Emi is pregnant, but is saying nothing until the other woman makes an announcement. It's her body and her business, not Xanna's. She is also certain that Emi is visiting other relatives in Palermo, but the other woman is tactfully not telling them about Xanxus and vice versa due to being aware that a, Xanxus was taken in at a young age by his mother's side of the family with his biological father being nowhere in the picture and b, the how and why of him becoming the head of a massive business empire over the heads of his two much older cousins looks rather dubious despite said cousins clearly not minding that a distantly-related teenager got the bulk of their inheritance.

Then there's c, whereby Enrico died within a year of Xanxus being named Heir over his head, despite the official line on that being an accident and them being nowhere near when it happened. The timing makes it suspicious by default and there are no shortage of stories floating around the family of how well Xanxus did not get along with his oldest sibling.

The huge old house and ubiquitous people in suits are a dead giveaway too, as are all the people calling him 'Tenth' rather than by name. The horde of kids running around the place and the previously-formal lawn having been replaced by a mosaic of low-growing meadow plants softens the image slightly, but both can also have more sinister connotations if a person happens to be paranoid. As might the tone of the gossip surrounding the Vongola on the civilian side; nobody outright _says_ 'mafia', but so many business owned by them and so much local influence in the social arena tell a tale all its their own really.

It is, as Silvia Soave commented, rather feudal. However Xanxus is at least reforming it to inject more money at ground level rather than waiting for the benefits to trickle down, which never happens anyway.

Afternoon tea with the Korzato family takes a very interesting turn after Cecilia shows up with her home-made biscuits, and not just because Falco –as Camillo is experimenting with calling himself, since his birth certificate actually says his name is 'Falco Camillo' and it means the same as Hayato– instantly goes a horrible shade of grey-green and throws up in the waste paper basket.

Xanna is across the room in an instant, kneeling over him holding his hair out of the way and rubbing his back soothingly as he retches.

"It's okay, Falco, you're allowed to react. It's okay. You never have to eat your sister's cooking ever again, no matter what anybody tells you. Got that? It's okay. You're safe. It's okay."

She misses what Makoto says to Cecilia, but once Falco has emptied his stomach and swilled his mouth out with a bit of water he decides that clinging to her is the best way to avoid looking at anybody, so she carries him back to the couch and lets him bury his face in her shoulder, stroking his back and humming as he sobs jerkily into her jacket.

Tsuna climbs into her lap with his distraught, shivering Guardian, Takeshi perches on the arm of the couch so he can pat the younger boy on the back and Natsuki clambers onto the couch back, offering Mami and Enma a hand up so they can all perch comfortingly. Xanxus moves Mami into his lap before she can fall off, then drags Enma over to sit between them so he won't fall off either. Enma promptly kneels up and leans over Tsuna so he can pat Falco's hair.

Xanna lets her ears tune into the conversation going on between her husband, his cousin and the pink-haired teenager, the rest of her attention on the scrum of pre-teens she is now buried under.

"A gift?" Cecilia asks, sounding vaguely enthused but also glancing at her little brother with a distressed look on her face.

"A gift and a responsibility, young lady," Makoto says firmly, taking the plate of now-ominously-steaming biscuits away from her and setting it on the coffee table. "All gifts must be trained and used responsibly after all. I see that cooking is your passion and it awakes a fire in your heart, but such fires can easily be destructive if we do not temper them. You need to hold your passion in check lest you harm people."

The biscuits are now oozing purple and there are grubs wriggling through them as though brought into being by spontaneous generation; the low-level Flames radiating off them are vaguely alarming, as is the cloying over-sweet scent of rot.

"Like any other kind of Flames," her husband says prosaically, orange briefly flickering into life on his palm. "Not seen your kind before though."

The glare Makoto gives Xanxus is sharp but amused. "We call them the Flames of the Earth; Forest, Mountain, Swamp, Desert, Rift and Glacier, all coming together in Earth. Cecilia, your Flames are Swamp Flames, causing fermentation and decay in whatever you apply them to." Definitely a counterpart to Sky Flames then, as well as explaining why they're called 'sky' in the first place; the weather names –with 'Sun' in the middle as though it is an atmospheric phenomenon– have always seemed a bit silly to Xanna, but as half of a more complex system they make sense.

Cecilia is visibly horrified. "All the love and effort I put into my cooking is making it rot? I'm all yucky and rotting inside?"

"Lots of very nice food created using fermentation," Xanxus says instantly, "like wine. All alcohol actually."

"Yoghurt," Makoto adds repressively, glaring at her Sky, "is what I was going to suggest. Or bread; it takes a light touch. It's also a very useful Flame for breaking down chemical spills, oil slicks and other industrial accidents, so they don't harm the environment. You can grow really amazing flowers in compost that's been helped along by Swamp Flames and there's no reason you can't go on cooking once you've learned control, little one. You just need to be taught to keep yourself in check."

"I'm all yucky inside!" Cecilia wails, clearly not caring about any of these things. "Nobody's ever going to love me!"

Xanxus reaches out and shakes her gently. "Flames are not what you are," he says flatly. "Flames are an inheritance and a weapon; a tool. Flames are _how_ you do things. You are Cecilia. You are a loud, silly and very stubborn girl who likes cooking and can use Swamp Flames."

"I am not silly!"

"Very nice Flames too; they're purple. Never seen purple before."

"They rot things!"

"Mine burn everything to ash," Xanxus retorts, letting go of her, "at least you have variety, silly girl." Of course there's a lot more variety offered by Harmony than by Wrath, but Cecilia doesn't need to know about that.

Cecilia stamps her foot. "You're silly!" she shouts, then blushes scarlet as she remembers who she's yelling at. "Sorry," she tacks on in a whisper.

"I have an aunt with Swamp Flames," Makoto says easily, as though the exchange didn't happen at all. "She would love to have a pretty little Italian girl to teach her tricks to, since none of her children have the gift and the grandchildren are too young to find out what they're good at. She can teach you more about cooking too."

"Would she come here?" Xanna asks over the heads of the younger children, who have all mostly calmed down. The cookies are now a puddle of sludge on their plate, surrounded by grubs and other small insects, all still radiating faintly purplish Flames.

"No; she's very old and doesn't like leaving her garden," Makoto replies, ruffling Cecilia's hair and making the teenager squeak as she tries to smooth it back down. "But I'm sure once the young lady here has got the hang of the basics then she can come back here and lessons can continue by letter, if she's that homesick. Regular visits would be good though; I know auntie Phony gets lonely now my cousins have all moved out and had kids of their own." 'Phony' has to be short for something, but Xanna can't think what.

"You're sending me away?" Cecilia looks miserable. Xanxus pokes her nose, making Mami giggle.

"My family, pinkie; I want to meet them too." He grins. "Want to hear what they're like as well."

The girl brightens. "Oh, so I can be like a scout for Tenth? Or a spy?"

"A diplomat, pinkie," Xanxus teases her, flicking her hair. "Think you can manage for a month or two? After Christmas, of course."

"Where does your old auntie live?" Cecilia asks, biting her lip but looking almost convinced.

"Japan," Makoto says simply.

And that is that, more or less.

* * *

The new year brings fresh and interesting challenges, some of which would be adorable were they not symptoms of considerable trauma.

"I want to say yes! But what if he wants to drug me and cut me open?"

This is not the usual problem parents of teenagers face when their daughters are agonising over dating.

"Or his parents or other relatives want to cut me open?" Risa continues, tugging on her short curls and grimacing wildly. "I want to date and cuddle and be happy like you and Tenth are but starting is scary!"

Xanna gently tugs the fourteen-year-old –who is already nearly as tall as she is now– into her arms and kisses the top of her head. "Shh, darling, shhh," she soothes. "I can do a background check for you." She wants all the Vittore to be able to enjoy life and if background checks will help, then she'll pay for the missions herself. "Name, sweetie?"

"Carlo Lupo," Risa mumbles, hugging her back. "Thank-you Mama."

"Can you look into Sara Tintore too, Mama?" Luca asks from where he's playing with his breakfast, "and Maria Moro?"

"Giuseppe Riccio?" asks Mauro hopefully, rubbing the curved scar under his eye.

"Silvia and Ottavia Baglio?" Rossana asks, looking up from her toast. "Not for dating but I want to say yes next time they invite me to their house."

Oh dear, it seems _all_ her kids have been struggling with this and she hasn't noticed.

"Write me a list of everybody you want to do things after school with, friends or potential date-mates, and I'll do background checks all around," she promises firmly. "I won't tell you what I find, but I will tell you if I think the person you want to spend time with has an ulterior motive for wanting to spend more time with you." Beyond 'wanting to get to know them better,' of course.

She is promptly mobbed by grateful teens and pre-teens. She should probably offer to do this for the younger ones too, so they don't automatically turn down things out of fear for their own safety, either conscious or subconscious. She's a mafia Donna, she has resources and a duty to keep people gainfully employed as well as the responsibility as a parent to help her kids explore their options.

* * *

The Varia recruitment drive is going… well, it's going. It's having some interesting knock-on effects on Vongola international relations too, because the Varia are the Vongola's shock troops and infiltration specialists and people get nervous when an organisation as large and powerful as the Vongola decides to beef up its combat arm.

Xanxus is wording it as 'expanding our customer base' and 'catching up with the market', as though this is a natural progression to all of Ninth's global alliances. Don't all our lovely allies abroad _want_ to hire the Varia? Surely they do; the Varia is the best at what they do after all.

Spinning it as a business thing is doing wonders for increasing the number and type of missions being offered the Varia, although it's also forcing everybody to either learn more languages or move Squad formations around to maximise collective language skills. Xanna realised last week that she is actually fluent in _nineteen_ languages now –when did that happen– and can read a further six. Her husband is probably way ahead of her and so is most of Mist Division; the average number of languages spoken by a Mist is thirty-two, with some –like Maínomai– being fluent in nearly seventy.

Wanhope brings the average down because he doesn't speak at all, but he writes in eight languages and can sign in eleven, which counts. He may understand as many as forty languages, but there's no way of proving fluency so they can't be added to his file.

Squalo's still away somewhere on the other side of the planet, which is odd. She's used to seeing him every day with occasional three-day-to-week-long absences for missions. All through the second half of January and the first half of February she kept on expecting him to walk through the door at any moment, chuck his school rucksack to the floor with a thud and start complaining loudly about whatever the teachers are making him do _this_ time.

Xanxus misses him too, she can tell. Back in the beginning it was just her and her Sky, but Squalo was brought into the dynamic four years ago and they're both completely used to him being there. Him not being here is… it's itchy somehow, under her skin where she can't reach. He should be here. 'Tera visiting regularly does not stop them missing Squalo; the two Superbi Rains are not interchangeable and are in fact very different people. Both equally loved, of course, but for different reasons.

Except this is Squalo's choice and he's nearly seventeen, so more than old enough to be exploring and trying things out by himself, for himself. He'll come back; her Sky is his Sky and Squalo's nothing if not single-mindedly devoted to Xanxus.

It would be nice however if the melodramatic swordsman actually communicated; yes, he's sending videos of his fights back with the new recruits –yes she and her husband do watch all of them– but that's… who is she kidding. It's conversation in a way. He sends the videos, Xanxus writes a letter heckling him on slipping in the mud one time or getting blood in his hair or fumbling with the prosthetic and she writes letters telling him to wrap his ankle properly –she saw it twist– and reminding him to actually sleep and eat properly in between working on new moves, he sends more videos and the process repeats. Sometimes her letters are more along the lines of 'what was that move you did how the hell does that even work' and she would really like proper replies to those, rather than more videos which include Squalo using the same move again against another opponent, but taken from a different angle. Yes it's educational but it's not like talking and hearing him explain things.

It's a bit weird for Xanna, this almost entirely one-sided conversation after years of Squalo always running his mouth off at and around her so she never had to guess what he was thinking or feeling. She misses the sound of his voice, his utter bluntness and wonderful way with words. He's a close friend and while she's got a few of those, she doesn't see all of them as often as she used to. Or as often as she'd like to. Cesco's a bit less busy than he used to be and her being a Donna now does actually make forcing him to take time off to come to dinner with her and Xanxus occasionally much easier, but that's an altogether different relationship with a completely different person. Her relationship with Pantera is similarly different, although he's visiting far more often than anybody else right now so she's not really getting the chance to miss him.

Her husband might think he's subtle but he isn't. The way he invites 'Tera to stay into late in the evening several times a week and takes time off from working to chat to Delfino whenever the sneaky old man comes over to see his granddaughter is not subtle, even though she's one of maybe ten people who have noticed.

She's not entirely sure what Squalo's looking for on this quest of his, but she hopes that whatever it is, he finds it soon and comes home. His little sister's going to be really upset if he misses her birthday, even more upset than she was over not seeing him on his birthday.

* * *

"Pleeeeease, Mamma Xanna?" The pleading puppy eyes would probably be more moving if she didn't know her horde of little monsters so well.

"Why?" Ah, not a question they were expecting, good.

"Because–"

"Ottavia has a hamster–"

"–puppy and it's _adorable_ , Mamma–"

"–want a cat Mamma, so–"

"Quiet!" She demands loudly, waving her hand sharply in a horizontal line in front of her chest. The masses subside instantly.

"Now, pets are a commitment," she says firmly, "and much harder than plants. Plants will recover if you forget to give them anything to drink for a few days, pets won't. Pets also need cleaning up after and feeding and socialising, like toddlers do; your school-friends may well have pets at home, but those pets are probably cared for by their parents and I honestly do not have the energy for pets, what with having you lot to raise and my Division to keep an eye on."

The horde deflates, complete with suitably disappointed sound effects.

"However," Xanna continues, "I am willing to buy you some low-effort starter pets to share. Pets that can mostly look after themselves, like the Varia cats do, but are more friendly and less dangerous." The Varia's cats are very, very dangerous, being hybrid crosses of a range of domestic and non-domestic cats that various Varia have brought home from missions over the decades, bred with each-other and fiddled with in various ways using Flames. There is a column in the records for 'death by cat' and there's at least one mook every year that manages to get added to it.

"We get pets?"

"We get pets!"

"Is it a puppy, Mamma?"

"Is it a normal cat, Mamma?"

"Tell us, Mamma!"

"It's a surprise," Xanna says firmly, "and if you decide you don't want them and don't join in caring for them, then you don't have to. But if you don't help care for them, I can't judge your maturity and readiness for more challenging pets." In other words, help out and learn what pet ownership is about and you can 'graduate' to a kitten or puppy later.

"Yes, Mamma," the chorus chimes.

"Now shoo so I can start arranging things."

"Yes Mamma!"

"Love you, Mamma!"

She's pretty sure the pet she has in mind aren't something they've considered, but hopefully enough of them will like them to win over the rest.

* * *

"Chickens."

"Yes, husband." She personally thinks it's a brilliant idea: they can forage on the lovely meadow the gardeners replaced the lawn with after she expressed a dislike for manicured grass, live in an outdoor hen-house and won't need much additional feeding. The specific breed she has in mind is calm, docile and fairly small, so won't mind being cuddled and manhandled. Plus they're fairly broody, so if any of the kids really take to them she can buy more eggs and hatch them under the hens they already have.

"Pet chickens." Xanxus shakes his head wonderingly. "Why?"

"Because they want pets, I want to start teaching them about responsibility and I am not going to do it the way you learned." By having to protect a human being in their care from a parental figure.

"Going to threaten to eat them if they don't care for them?"

"Not personally, but I am sure somebody will; that's why I want to get Silkies. They're black-fleshed chickens, so it will be very obvious what it is even after being plucked and cooked." The kids can then be confident that their pet hasn't been turned into dinner without running outside to check every time.

"Those the weird fluffy mini-chickens old man Prizzi has running around his aviary?" The former Don Prizzi is a bird fancier and has a fairly extensive collection, both at large on his grounds and in a large, well-appointed aviary.

"Yes, those ones."

Her husband grins. "Go for it. Maybe get some goose eggs once the chickens have settled in; be good for security."

"Like the meadow is good for security?" It turns out an ever-changing patchwork of dozens of different plant species makes it much, much harder to put a convincing illusion over the open space between the Iron Fort and the tree line, who'd have thought? Xanna only wanted it because a green lawn guzzles water and meadows are good for bees, but everybody's acting like it was a genius security upgrade and many other Dons are replacing sections of their own lawns with low-growing semi-arid meadows full of local plants. It amuses both 'Tera and her husband that the Dons are following her lead there, if for very different reasons; she never thought she could become a trend-setter.

"Animals have different senses," Xanxus drawls, "and geese are territorial."

"If you want geese, husband, I'll get you geese," Xanna tells him dryly. "I'm sure the kitchens will be happy to spend less money on eggs."

"Goose tastes good too."

"I'm going to have to introduce the younger ones to the concept of farming, aren't I." It is not a question.

He smirks. "Could get a sheep or two as well, they'd like the meadow and keep everything neatly trimmed."

"Let's see how well they manage with chickens first, shall we?" One thing at a time. Collecting eggs from the birds and eating them will be a good starting point, for the younger kids at least; the older ones already know what farming entails. There are a lot of farms in Vongola territory and over half of the kids in the Academy elementary school are from families who habitually raise poultry and rabbits at home for food.

"Going to feel very Bowie, chasing chickens around." Why would –oh, Labyrinth. The Varia love that movie, there are so many drinking games; the Vittore will probably see the connection too. Well, that's one way to get them to like chickens…

"Does that make me or you the Goblin King?"

"Grandma," her husband decides mischievously. "Definitely isn't ever going to give the kids back; s'why we live here too now."

Xanna only laughs because it's true.

* * *

Squalo is not back for her birthday, which was expected but is still a bit of a let-down, despite him sending her a very classy full yukata set via the Squad rotating out. Said Squad is Kuchisake's Squad, which is probably why there is an illustrated Kinbaku guide and twelve different coils of thin rope all wrapped up in a pretty piece of fabric on her bedside table when she wakes up on the morning of her birthday; this is the kind of gift Xanxus has shot people for giving her in public and the Mist Officer is both shamelessly nosy and very good at bending the rules. This is not public.

Her husband steals the book right off; she's probably not going to be allowed to read it for herself until he decides how he feels about it. Which, fine; she does it for him after all, so it's his opinions that count.

Squalo also fails to show on his little sister's birthday nearly three weeks later; Delfina spends the weekend after her very small party completely non-verbal and clinging to the skirts Xanna wore specifically so the little girl would have something to hang onto while following her around. She writes the Rain Officer a truly blistering letter for that particular failure and pays Mammon a premium to deliver it immediately by Flames, which clearly hits all the sore points she had intended it to as he shows up back at the Iron Fort less than a week later, ten days before his first exam date.

A good thing too, as the seven-year-old completely refuses to acknowledge his existence for the first four days, then spends the remaining six clinging to him like a monkey and demanding he tell her _everything_.

Xanna doesn't begrudge the little girl a moment of it, despite not getting more than half an hour at a time to talk to Squalo herself, generally over meals where she has to compete with everybody else wanting to catch up with him. She eventually has to secure sparring time, where the Rain Officer thrashes her repeatedly, berates her for letting her sword-skills slip in his absence then trains her into the ground every afternoon after his exams. Of course sparring and training doesn't allow for much in the way of conversation beyond what is involved in teaching moves –and the inevitable creative swearing– but it is communication and she gets a good feel for her fellow Guardian during their personal time.

He's still fretting over something despite being visibly more comfortable in his own skin and having honed his focus even more sharply and tightly than it was already. She doesn't pry, instead talking about how much everybody has missed him –except of course the mooks who are relieved to be free of his punishing training regime– and various small personal family things that have happened in his absence.

The reasoning behind the chickens –which have proved surprisingly popular with kids and Varia alike– makes him snort, but he laughs outright when she confides that she had to make Security add an extra layer into the Iron Fort's defences to thwart the various assassins trying to walk off with her kids' new pets.

"I told them to buy their own chickens," Xanna continues cheerfully once he's stopped guffawing, "and some of them actually have, although how they're keeping the cats at bay I'm not entirely sure. There's probably an arms race going on there, since some of the cats are smart enough to get around Mist-traps." Although it's entirely possible the chickens have been Altered to have cat-repelling fields around them.

"Chickens," Squalo sniggers, still clutching at his stomach, "shit that's hilarious, you. So damn Varia too; fuzzy chickens!" The Labyrinth associations are very obviously at the forefront of his mind.

"I know," Xanna agrees, grinning widely; the Varia are ridiculous and fantastic in how very insane they are. "Xanxus is hankering after geese though, so I'm getting him some for his birthday."

The seventeen-year-old laughs so hard he actually falls into her, slinging an arm over her shoulder as he wheezes and gasps for breath. It's a wonderful end to the week.

She is rather less happy to find out he's buggered off again the following Tuesday; Xanxus isn't massively impressed either, despite Squalo having made his excuses to their Sky's face and citing a whole load of other swordsmen he's heard about during his four-month tour that he wants to find and fight.

"This feels like a personal thing getting tangled up in a Flame thing," she tells her husband unhappily that evening.

"Hm?" Yeah, he's not pleased about this development either if he's sliding into being non-verbal.

"You know how Squalo's always been really passionate and focused on getting exactly what he wants? Well, this doesn't feel organised enough to be that," Xanna says, fumbling for words to articulate her unease. "So it's either displacement or he's tripped into one of the fixation-things Tesla and 'Tera each separately warned me that Flame-Users are prone to; possibly both at once and they're feeding each-other." She still feels like she's missing something important but that about covers the shape of it.

The fixations are the 'everyone knows' generalisations that have become stereotypes, like Storms getting narrowly single-minded, Clouds becoming obsessively territorial over specific things and Mists lying about absolutely everything. They're not universal but they're common, especially if the Flame-User in question feels insecure in themselves or lacking control over their life, and are so ubiquitous that the Vongola considers them 'normal' and 'expected' despite them being symptoms of stress. Then again, comfortable happy people don't become Active in the first place. Ironically the Varia is full of people who don't conform to the stereotypes at all.

There isn't a Lightning stereotype, because mafia Lightning conditioning reduces everybody to stunted zombies, but the Varia have noticed that stressed civilian-raised Lightnings become random and impulsive, as do people with strong Lightning secondary Flames. In brainwashed Lightnings however this frequently manifests as suicidal tendencies. Because brainwashing tends to remove things like forethought and awareness of one's own emotional state.

Her husband grunts thoughtfully. "Displacement fits," he admits eventually; "enjoying himself but not thinking much. _Wasn't_ thinking much," he corrects himself, "but doing it more towards the end of his stay. Then abruptly left."

There's a silence as they both contemplate this.

"Not got his head out of his ass by Christmas I'll drag him back," Xanxus decides firmly. " _My_ Rain; what does he think I'm here for?"

That last sentence is a barely-audible grumble, so is probably not for answering. Xanna therefore doesn't. "Do I get to read my birthday book yet?"

"Soon, pixie," her husband promises, smirking more cheerfully at the change in subject. "Found a few things I'd like you to try out."

* * *

Summer has come around again and the Iron Fort is not as cool a building as Varia Headquarters, which while nice in winter is really going to suck come August. She's trying not to think about that right now though, hence the lying on her front along the couch in her very nice sitting room and reading the most recently-published Pratchett book, Jingo. Which is a moderately surreal experience as she remembers reading it before, despite the book in her hands being brand-new. It's the most convincing evidence yet that her memories are from a very similar parallel universe –and that parallel universes are indeed a real thing that exist– and it's oddly uncomfortable. Not all of her memories are nice and she's vaguely wondering about the ethics of having people assassinated for things they are probably going to do but haven't yet.

No, she knows what the ethics of that look like; she's just wondering how badly she's willing to compromise her soul there.

Maybe make it a fact-finding mission? In case those things are an area of difference rather than similarity, since she's mostly sure there was no rainbow fire mafia in her old memories?

Plus, renewable energy. The mafia would really be into that, as it increases independence from external power sources –which are also ways in which they could be tracked down by legal authorities– and something they could sell to other people at a premium. She's going to have to talk to Xanxus about it and see if he's prepared to add it to R&D's agenda. Being Tenth means deciding what he's willing to pay the Vongola's scientists to pursue and currently there's not much currently on that agenda beyond mobile telephone technology, articulated prosthetics that respond to the user's nervous system and pharmaceuticals that work reliably on Actives, the latter of which is an ongoing thing that Eighth and Ninth have been funding continuously since right after World War Two.

Better incinerators that filter out all volatiles and recycle the heat for generating electricity could also be worth looking into, what with waste disposal being something a lot of different mafia organisations get into for various practical business reasons.

She definitely needs to write a list.

Book first though.

"Good book, honey?"

Xanna looks up instantly. "Hi Luss; yes, very. Really sharp too; main topics seem to be war and racism." Pratchett books always have an underlying theme being commented on and this one is not pulling any punches.

"Yikes, may have to get my own copy then," the Sun comments, leaning over the back of the couch and curling a hand around the back of her neck. Xanna doesn't react to the tingle of Flames sliding under her skin; her fellow Guardian worries, so letting him –no her, definitely her today– check on her physical health whenever she wanders into arms' reach is no hardship for her friend's peace of mind.

"So how've you been, honey?" Luss asks idly, fingers shifting to tug on the loose curling hair at her nape below the clip holding most of her hair up.

"Very much enjoying being married," Xanna says easily, sitting up, "and struggling to believe that it's been over half a year now." Not that anything has really changed beyond Xanxus calling her 'wife' as well as pixie. "Come sit down and tell me what you've been up to lately, beyond your meticulous documentation and mitigation of the Vittore's ongoing health issues."

The Sun obligingly joins her on the couch, sitting down right next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they lean into each-other. "Those kids are just precious, sugar-lump," the younger woman sighs, "especially the tinies. Not even five yet and so _sweet_! I want to squeal and cuddle them and never let them go." She sighs. "I've worked out a few systemic issues in the six-year-olds that are going to need either regular Activation or pharmaceuticals, but since they're kids and most are Active I'd rather stick to Flames for the time being. They might grow out of it, but if they don't we can switch to pills once they've stopped growing. Some of them are going to need surgery though, the sooner the better."

"Which ones?" Selling the idea of surgery to the Vittore is going to be extremely challenging.

"Tullio, Trina and Roby," Lussuria replies, fingers tracing idle shapes on Xanna's upper arm. "Different issues; Tullio has Secondary Budd-Chiari syndrome, that's when the veins that drain the liver are being compressed so blood can't flow properly. It's connected to the experimental procedures he went through and is fixable, but only if we cut in and take out the benign tumours sitting in his abdomen. Trina has an accessory spleen that has grown to the same size as her original one and attached itself her other organs, her intestines and left ovary in particular, so we need to take it out; if she were male I might leave it but there's already enough that can go wrong with the female reproductive system without adding more variables. I'd rather not have to send her in for emergency surgery over an ovarian torsion –that's a twisted ovary–because that spleen put too much stress on the connective tissue. Roby has cervical ribs putting pressure on her nerves as they ossify and need removing before she develops double thoracic outlet syndrome. Compressed nerves otherwise; lots of pain."

Xanna understands maybe half of the technical terminology but recognises that Luss wouldn't be suggesting they put any of the Vittore through surgery if it wasn't vitally necessary for their health. "We'll have a sit-down with them and the older ones to explain things, with diagrams and all, so you can show them what needs doing and why," she says comfortingly, snuggling closer to her friend and fellow Guardian, "then we can talk them through their fears, make sure they know exactly what is happening every step of the way and come out the other end feeling reassured and confident."

"So optimistic, honey-bun," Luss sighs into her hair, kissing the top of her head.

"If we are confident and optimistic the kids will take their cues from us and be similarly confident and optimistic," Xanna says firmly, leaning up to kiss the Sun's cheek. "You're a fantastic medic and Vongola Medical has excellent surgeons; it'll all be fine."

"Flatterer," Lussuria sighs, but Xanna can hear her smiling.

"So how are you and Dino doing?" she asks, changing the subject.

"Ooh, are we having girl talk? Are you going to reciprocate with juicy details on what you've been getting up to with your very sexy husband?" Luss gushes, brightening visibly.

"I could," Xanna admits with a smirk, "but first I really want to hear about you and Dino, since he's clearly much more relaxed and comfortable in his skin than he was this time last year." Squalo being away means she's seen far less of Dino, but she has run into him a few times while visiting Cesco and he does look very well; more confident too.

"Oh it's been wonderful, honey; we've worked out what we like and he's been so much more open to my suggestions," Luss says happily. "I've been taking him places to meet new people and he's so _darling_ , you have no idea, I'm so lucky. He's so much more confident now as well and actually asking me about things he wants to try too, it's wonderful." She smirks, "and of course the sex is fantastic. I'm so spoiled. He's just so willing and attentive and expressive."

"And so pretty," Xanna adds slyly.

"Mm, all bright and golden with such delicious muscles," Luss agrees with a sigh. "Not massively defined, but pleasantly solid with just enough softness on top to be cuddly. He's so cuddly, Sprite, it's amazing; lovely hands too and a fantastic kisser." The Sun sighs again, eyelashes fluttering.

"Well Xanxus is more lean than cuddly but he's not letting that stop him," Xanna says cheerfully, "he's always touching me and holding me and kissing me but still listening to me when I want space as well and making sure I know that he's fine with anything I want. When he's not walking me through what he wants on the kinky side, which has recently started involving rope and knots." That book Kuchisake gave her has turned out to be a very interesting read; the practical aspects are proving enjoyable as well.

"Oh really? I heard Kuchisake got you a rather daring private birthday gift but I had no idea it went down so well," Luss says delightedly. "Tell me more, honey! I always found Boss to be pretty vanilla in his tastes."

"By your standards maybe," Xanna teases gently, "but I'm even less into the scene than he is, which paradoxically seems to make him keener to get me to try out new and interesting things on him."

"Control, darling," Lussuria reminds her fondly, tapping her nose. "You're not pushing him; makes sense really, all things considered. One more reason why me and him were never going to work out but you balance him perfectly. With you he can go exactly as far as he likes and be confident that you're not going to spring anything on him, which I admittedly did a few times. He did enjoy it at the time, but clearly it didn't sit so well in the long term." The Sun sighs. "Oh well, we had fun while it lasted."

"Gave him a good idea of what he likes too, which has helped us as he's confident about his tastes so I can cater to them," Xanna admits. "Things would probably be more awkward otherwise." She would not be comfortable helping anybody through their first forays into bondage and Xanxus knowing what he wants does make it much easier for her to meet him halfway.

"Glad to hear it honey; you two ever need advice, I'm right here," Luss coos, kissing her cheek loudly. "Ever want a little help trying out something new, I don't mind lending a hand either; anything for our delectable Sky and for you, sugar-lump."

"I'll bear that in mind," Xanna agrees comfortably. "Got anything planned for the summer?"

"Beyond sorting out a new uniform design you mean, honey? I've got a holiday with my cute little cookie planned –one of his family properties– which will hopefully be private enough for us to do a little experimenting. There's also a medical conference on immunology I want to attend and a few other things. You?"

"The Vongola grinds to a complete standstill in August," Xanna says wryly, "so we're probably going to either go on holiday for most of the month or move back into the Varia, since there are more foreign contracts coming in now and I know my husband wants to get out in the field a bit. Possibly a bit of both; a week's holiday with the kids so they feel catered to, then a fortnight and change at the Varia. I'll probably spend most of it napping on the floor and wearing next to nothing, as usual."

"That sounds rather nice, honey-bun," her friend admits quietly. "We've missed you, you know; yes we can come over any time and all, but having you there with us has a certain charm that's been missing this past year, even with you visiting a few days a week to stay on top of the paperwork."

"Well the next big thing on my to-do list is giving Tenth an heir," Xanna admits lightly, "which we'll probably get to work on in the autumn, seeing as de-centralisation and reform of the various Houses has been going so well." Of course it hasn't all been smooth sailing, but Xanxus's willingness to throw Varia at his more recalcitrant problems has worked wonders –though he has yet to do more than remind people that this in an option– and his in-family following is somehow even more fanatically devoted than before. She's not sure when or how that happened.

"Oh wow, you with kids," Luss flutters, beaming delightedly, "I can't wait! I bet they'll be gorgeous, your lovely skin and Boss's eyes, or maybe his skin and your elegant bones. I mean he's insanely sexy and nobody can deny it, but there's something about your face that has class, you know?" Her fingers cradle Xanna's chin, turning her head gently this way and that. "And your smiles are so lively and warm; when Boss smiles it's more shiver up the spine than comforting." She pauses, "and how many are you thinking of having?"

"I have no idea," Xanna admits frankly. "Starting with trying for one, then seeing how it goes, really; I mean, it depends on the kids too and their needs." She's never considered her looks to be particularly classy; mostly she looks Foreign, which makes her fit in pretty well at the Varia where over half the membership is not Italian. Her nose is also not remotely classy, even if her cheekbones and high forehead may possibly qualify.

"Good point, cupcake; well I suppose I'll have to wait and see like everybody else," The Sun Officer –and Vongola Sun Guardian– sighs, letting go of Xanna's face to push her sunglasses up her own nose with one finger. "Well, if that's coming up I recommend a slight decrease in your exercise regime, since you're going to need to put on a bit more weight. A bit more variety in terms of fresh food so as to provide all those essential vitamins and minerals as well; I'll let the kitchens know."

"Thanks Luss." Xanna had been wondering about that herself.

"You are very welcome honey; it's what I'm here for."

"Along with providing me with scurrilous gossip."

"Of course! Want to hear about what all our lovely degenerates have been up to recently without your loving supervision?"

Xanna smiles. "Very definitely."

* * *

Xanna hears the giggles first; she's sprawled on the couch in the suite office at the Varia in a linen shirt and tiny shorts, trying not to move and to claw back some sleep. They've all been back here for a week now and her husband's been away on a mission since day three, so she's not been getting as much rest as she would like. The heat isn't helping, but she can't put up her Alteration everywhere; the Quiet Room, two training rooms and the main breakfast room are enough and already have Squalo complaining loudly that she's spoiling the mooks.

It's pretty difficult to identify children by giggle, especially when you have over thirty of them –all the part-time fosterlings are banned from visiting at the Varia so it's just thirty rather than nearly seventy– but that particular giggle does not belong to any of her kids; that's Mami, Makoto and Emi's middle child. Emi's been leaving the kids with her and Xan a lot lately, what with having baby Sena to care for and it being so very hot.

Both being Latent, neither of the Korzato kids are at risk of getting tangled up in the various Flame-traps that litter Varia Headquarters, although the old 'kiddie floor' is still mostly free of such things, being empty and unused since they all moved out last autumn. There are other physical traps of course, but Tsuna and his Guardians stick to their 'cousins' like glue and Enma and Mami have both been getting a lot better at dodging.

The giggling however suggests some kind of mischief is afoot.

Does she want to know?

Not really.

It's probably harmless –Tsuna is very sensitive about bullying and won't let Natsuki or Falco do anything that strays into casual cruelty– and is unlikely to involve any kind of permanent change. So she can ignore the giggles and not move.

There's a faint Flame flare and a burst of astonished Russian profanity outside her office door and the giggles explode into outright laughter. Whatever it is, it's apparently swear-worthy to adult Varia and completely hilarious to pre-pubescent children. That's… that's a short list; she can't think of anything. The heat is only part of why she's finding it difficult to come up with something.

There is another, different Flame spike and more startled profanity some minutes later, this time in Basque. Then there's some delighted high-pitched cooing and the giggles fade rapidly, accompanied by running feet; so it's something surprising but adorable and the Varia Ladies have found out. Well, good luck to the kids in finding a hiding place if they don't want to be fussed over.

Xanna shifts onto her side and tries to get some actual rest. Maybe opening the balcony doors will help, so long as she keeps the shutters closed?

* * *

She wakes to the feel of her husband's Flames and more happy giggling; this time in the room with her. Opening her eyes, Xanna blinks at the six black-haired little people all wiggling and bouncing on their toes as they grin up at her husband, who is grinning back at them and ruffling their hair as they stray within arm's reach.

Falco looks dramatically, translucently pale with black hair and Tsuna looks even more Japanese than usual, Takeshi is of course the same as ever, Natsuki looks a bit sallow and unwell but Enma and Mami look like they could be her husband's younger siblings. Or possibly some accidental bastards conceived during his early teens, if a bystander doesn't know her husband isn't even nineteen yet despite looking older than she does now; her husband can pass for twenty-four. She on the other hand still looks exactly as she did at seventeen, which is annoying since she still gets carded despite being twenty-two and he hasn't been carded since he was sixteen.

What with graduating high school at fourteen, a surprisingly large proportion of the Vongola Alliance assumes he's four years older than is actually the case. Xanxus of course takes advantage of this, since people thinking he's twenty-two means they take him more seriously than they would if they knew he was still eighteen. A genius and very mature eighteen, of course, but ageism is alive and well in the mafia along with all kinds of other isms.

Mami in particular looks incredibly similar to Xanxus in eye-shape as well as colour and the black hair pushed back from her face draws attention to how they have the same hair-line and forehead and cheekbones, although her husband's facial bones are rather sharper as he has long since lost all his baby fat. It makes her wonder how closely related to Emi Xanxus is, because that is the parent Mami gets those features from. She knows Makoto and Emi are cousins –fourth cousins apparently– but Xanxus is Makoto's second cousin as well as his sixth cousin once removed, so there's very possibly a more recent connection to Emi's side of the family as well.

"Where did you get a daughter from, crow?" she asks teasingly.

"Found her on the doorstep," her husband says laconically, ruffling Mami's hair again as the seven-year-old giggles.

"I'm not his daughter," Mami pipes up, still giggling. "Natsuki was trying out hair Alteration and we wanted to join in!"

"Then you noticed how very like your cousin you look with black hair and decided to surprise people," Xanna deduces, remembering the startled profanity from earlier.

"Yup!" the little girl agrees, beaming and bouncing happily in place. "Everybody made really funny faces and some people said lots of bad words!"

"Bad words?" Xanxus echoes, tone dry. Enma looks up at the Varia Boss, eyes wide and solemn.

"You can always tell when somebody's saying a bad word," the usually redheaded boy says with a tiny smile, "even when you don't know the language."

"That is very true," Xanna agrees conspiratorially, sitting up on the couch. "There's something about the tone and the consonants, isn't there?"

"Lots of swearwords have 'k' sounds in," Natsuki agrees amiably, eyes dancing with suppressed glee.

"Had fun terrorising my minions then?" Xanxus asks, eyes glinting in amusement.

"Yep!" Takeshi agrees brightly. "We'll have to do it again sometime! Maybe at the Iron Fort next!"

Xanna chuckles at the prospect; that would certainly get lots of unguarded reactions from the older generation, although the gossip mill would probably explode and that would possibly be something Emi would be uncomfortable with. "I think you should get your mother's permission before doing something like that," she says with a smile. "What if she doesn't want people thinking you might be my husband's?"

"But we're too old!" Enma points out.

"Adults are stupid sometimes," Tsuna says sagely. "This was fun though and there are lots of pictures! Sert borrowed one of Xanna's cameras to make sure!"

"I look forward to seeing the prints then," Xanna says, surrendering to the inevitable. It was probably one of the automatic cameras she's left in the Officer office as common Division property, but her Lightnings assume every camera in the building belongs to her unless explicitly claimed by somebody else.

"A few pictures with me in," Xanxus tell her; "caught me on the doorstep then wanted some posed as well as candid."

Well that will be something to look forward to. "Kids, you've had your fun with my husband so can you run off and let us catch up?"

"Yes, Xanna," Tsuna agrees instantly, catching Natsuki and Takeshi –the two incorrigible mischief-makers– by the sleeves and dragging them out of the door, Falco at their heels and Enma and Mami at the back of the group, holding hands and Mami still giggling happily.

"So, how was it?" Xanna asks as the door clicks shut.

"Restful," Xanxus replies, settling on the coffee table and shedding boots, jacket and tie, "will be able to schedule more missions now I'm delegating."

"Not more than two a month, please, and no more than four days at a time," she requests quietly. "I missed you."

His smirk softens, eyes warm and fond. "Missed you too, pixie; didn't sleep so well."

"Me neither, which is going to get us both into trouble if you ever have to go away for a few weeks for an inter-family negotiation like Ninth did sometimes or there's an emergency," Xanna admits, a little annoyed at herself despite recognising that this is a deeply ingrained coping mechanism that they can't just will away.

"You slept with 'Tera," her husband says after a thoughtful pause.

"I felt safe with him," she agrees. Although she can't exactly invite their best friend over to stay the night when her husband is away, people would get Ideas.

"Luss is safe." Oh, that is a thought. Xanxus would be confident in her safety if he knew she was with his Sun Guardian and Lussuria is somebody she would feel both safe and comfortable sharing a bed with. Except…

"It would cut into his Dino-time; they've got their own summer plans already." It would be inconsiderate of them to ruin their holiday, even though Lussuria would definitely agree to it.

Xanxus grunts. "Wish the shark were here."

Yes, Squalo makes her feel safe despite his being made of elbows and Xanxus wouldn't mind them sharing a bed.

"Pýř could probably be persuaded to sleep in the Guardian antechamber of our suite at the Iron Fort," Xanna mentions, "which might work." Pýř is pretty standoffish and very particular about his personal space, so Xanna lets him dictate the terms of all their interactions. He tends to wander in and out of her general vicinity unless away on missions or doing paperwork.

"Later yes; no good now."

"Maínomai? I mean, he's trustworthy and sees me like a sister so he would be happy to snuggle if I explained the problem, and if he agreed Pýř would probably invite himself along regardless," she suggests. Bel is too young to be reliable and is probably never going to be the right kind of reliable for this and Mammon would insist on being paid.

Her husband growls. "Might have to be," he agrees reluctantly, running his fingers through his hair a little irritably. "Shark's not back by our anniversary I'm dragging him home."

Yes, everything is just that slight bit out of whack without Squalo around and it's proving impossible to adjust to. "I will happily help if necessary and I'm sure Delfina will too."

Xanxus nods, eyes distant as he gets his thoughts lined up. "Will do as a stop-gap," he decides, "then we set up a proper system come autumn."

"Fine by me, crow, but could you please get on R&D's case over portable phones? I'm sure you would feel much more comfortable on missions knowing you could call me right before bed and have me answer and whoever I'm with assure you that everything's okay."

Her husband pauses. "True. Will do. Tomorrow." He gifts her with a warm smirk. "Going to nap now; sex later?"

"When it's cooled off a bit," Xanna agrees easily; "We could have a nice shower together." It's really suffocatingly hot right now no matter what time of day it is, but chilly running water is very invigorating. It's still overly warm in here, even with the balcony door open; air circulation does no good if outside is just as hot and humid as inside.

"Adventurous," Xanxus teases her.

"No, adventurous would be suggesting we go out for a very early morning walk in the gardens and take a blanket to lie on," Xanna teases back. "Like midnight early."

Oh, he likes that idea. Even more than the shower sex idea. "Pixie, please?"

"Why is it everybody thinks _I'm_ the exhibitionist?"

"You have the best ideas," her husband replies promptly. "Promise to keep things private if you'd rather; wouldn't be hard."

"I'm mainly worried about the sound carrying, but I'm sure you can muffle that with the right set-up," Xanna agrees; he's very good with Mist considering it's not his second or even third strongest affinity. Well, if you count Sky as a separate affinity, that is.

"That a yes?"

She is such a soft touch when it's Xanxus asking. It is terrible. Terrible. Her reputation is ruined.

"Yes."

His triumphant grin is utterly delightful though. "Will make it worth your while," he purrs, catching her hands and pressing quick, nibbling kisses to her knuckles. "You'll sleep _really_ well afterwards."

Xanna can't help her answering smile. "I'm holding you to that, crow-dear."

* * *

"But, but we're still using contraceptives!"

Lussuria raises an eyebrow. "Honey, you of all people know they're not entirely reliable," the Sun says dryly, "especially between Flame-Actives. The more volatile Flames mess with condoms, you know this; what with Boss being a Wrath and you taking great delight in testing his self-control I'm actually surprised this hasn't happened sooner."

Xanna huffs. Well, put it like that and yes, it is a bit surprising. "Why are we bothering with them at all then?"

Luss smiles a little patronisingly. "Because every little helps, sugar-lump!" he chirps. "And honey-bun, you are now on medical leave; no more sparring or rough-housing and I'm going to manage your diet personally."

Xanna groans; it's just started cooling off a little and she was looking forwards to actually being able to spar properly again. "Seriously? I'm barely pregnant at all!"

"Three weeks, honey; not long, I agree, but if you lose it I want to be able to look Boss in the eye and say there was nothing anybody could have done," her fellow Guardian says quietly, looking her dead in the eye. "Having him go on a grief-stricken rampage wouldn't help anyone, you least of all."

Ow. Truth. "Point," she sighs, kicking her feet. "I can still practice by myself though?"

"Go for it darling, fitness is important," Luss chirps, cheerful once more, "just avoid exhausting yourself; your body doesn't need that kind of stress on top of what it's already doing."

"Promise," Xanna agrees easily, sliding off the examination table her friend had dragged her into Medical to sit on after finding out she'd thrown up two mornings running. Wasn't morning sickness supposed to start later along than this? Or is this a strange Flame thing again?

"Thank-you honey; now go tell your husband I won the pool."

Of course there's a pool; this is the Varia, there's always a pool.

"Any more bets on my pregnancy I get a cut of."

"We'll start a cravings and favours fund just for you," Luss agrees with saccharine sweetness. "You're going to need all the help you can get dealing with the older kiddies and the rest of the Alliance once this gets out."

Ugh. Yes. Well, she knew this was coming.

She's having a baby! With Xanxus!

The little dance she does is completely undignified and Lussuria is laughing at her, but who cares. Baby!

* * *

After getting over the shock of realising he's going to be a father –well a biological father since Tsuna is already calling him 'dad'– Xanxus calls every Varia in the building together to both let them know –there is a cheer– and tell them it's a Varia Secret for the time being. They are therefore Not Allowed to breathe a word –or even hint– to anybody who hasn't signed the Varia contracts and trying to do so will lead to death by contract. Oh, and nobody tell the Captain, Boss wants to do that for himself.

Everybody is fully in favour of the absent Rain Officer getting this sprung on him –it will be funny– and Xanna is promptly swamped by congratulatory friends and slightly panicky Lightnings, all wanting to make sure she's okay and will continue to be okay. She ignores the money changing hands and quiet speculation on looks, sex, personality and so on that is already starting up; they can speculate all they want so long as they are discreet about it and don't come complaining to her when they lose.

There are nine different people playing with her hair right now, tugging long strands out of the clip, every single one of them feeling overwhelmed by the news that she is procreating, and she's still their Officer. It's still her job to look after them.

"Quiet Room," is all she says, but it's all she needs to say; she is instantly lifted off her feet –oh so very carefully– and swiftly whisked away through her Officer office to the room in question, which now has a permanent heat-sink Alteration in its ceiling. It's going to need it today, seeing as two-thirds of her Division are all trying to join her in a room which has a third of its floor space taken up by a double bed.

Twenty-nine people in a windowless bedroom not even as large as a high-school classroom is far too many people, but needs must. It helps that the high bed frame means Lightnings can be layered, so six of her assassins vanish under it immediately as she is carefully set down on the mattress by Borz, who then takes a moment to take the clip out completely, meticulously smooth her hair into order then put it back up again.

All around her CD players and tape machines are being handed around and earphones are removed from racks and drawers, another six of her people slipping in through the door and picking their way through the crush to find close friends and unoccupied cushions. Nobody talks, but hands flutter and fingers flick in coherent, eloquent patterns that become less jerky as everybody starts to settle and breathe through the very unexpected news their Boss has just dropped on them.

Not one of the seven former apprentices who have made Quality are here and neither are the three civilian-raised Lightnings, but that's probably due to them canvassing the other Divisions for support, ingratiating themselves with Information and organising a rotating schedule so that everybody can take turns following her around once business picks up again next week. Some of them will probably stop by here later, to consult the veterans and discuss potential Squad changes with her, but right now they want to be organising and doing more than they need to hide somewhere dark and safe so that's what they're doing.

That everyone in her Division feels safe and secure enough to actually hide and take the time they need to get their balance back is massive progress; even just eighteen months ago a good number of them were still too afraid of failure to admit that they sometimes felt overwhelmed.

It's incredibly warm and stuffy in a small room with thirty-five other adults, even with nobody moving much and the Alteration in the ceiling –since it can only 'shunt' so much heat at a time– and the quiet presence of her family around her soon has Xanna nodding off. She's vaguely aware of being gently manhandled into a more comfortable position as she drifts off, but who really cares.

It's still the summer and today the kids are all out with Cesco, swimming in his very nice outdoor pool, so there's nothing else she needs to be doing that can't be put off until tomorrow.

* * *

Xanxus's next birthday is his nineteenth, so he has to have a Traditional Vongola Birthday Party. Because it is Traditional.

The Vongola Tenth however does not want to have a Stupid party for all the suck-ups he would much rather avoid, so he announces in September that his birthday party is going to be child-friendly, seeing as he has almost forty children living with him and wants to spend the day with them on his birthday. The other Dons are probably relieved to not have to come up with excuses to avoid attending and therefore risking having to pay the penalty, so will do as they did last year and send minions to deliver gifts; only a few of those minions were traumatised when they stopped by the Varia last year. Well, noticeably traumatised.

The Vittore and fosterlings, not having any idea of the recent history and unpleasant connotations of such a competition, all think this is a wonderful idea and immediately get their hands on a copy of the rules so they can pick out fun things to give to or do for their foster-father on his special day.

Then immediately send a delegation to his office to make sure that nobody is _actually_ going to be killed for not getting enough points, because that's mean and unfair to the babies. Xanxus then gets to assure them that no, he's not killing anybody and in fact he has invited people who aren't allowed to join in the competition –like Xanna, for instance– so they are to ignore that rule.

The kids don't know that the 'loser has to die' rule is in fact still in effect, but Xanxus has banned her from participating on purpose so she will inevitably lose. Because her husband can rules-lawyer with the best of them and has already teasingly promised –in French– that it will only be 'a little death', which made both Cesco and Pantera snort their drinks and had Federico and Massimo in stitches on the carpet the following morning when they came by to ask about it.

Although that may have been relief fuelling their hysteria; they grew up with Enrico's increasingly out-of-control birthday bashes after all.

Still, since it is Xanxus's birthday and everything is being put on for his benefit, Xanna is the one the children are co-ordinating their plans with so that no two people or groups are doing the same thing and everything can be fitted in before bed-time so nobody misses out.

It's going to be completely amazing and hilarious and set a whole new bar for the Vongola Birthday thing. A much healthier and happier bar which she is having filmed for posterity.

* * *

Her husband's birthday party starts mid-afternoon, after the children have come back from school and had a few hours to run around and work off some of their frantic energy. Then everybody –well everybody invited– converges on the room Xanna has set up for the party, where there're chairs for her, her husband, Grandma Vongola –you're married to my grandson now so I _am_ your grandma, dear– and her Guardians, and cushions on the floor for everybody else.

Squalo is not here. Squalo should be here. Xanna suspects Squalo is going to be made to suffer for thinking he could get away with not being here, even if he did send her husband some very interesting books and a sort-of abducted –appropriated possibly?– neurologist with an interest in bionics and robotics.

The party starts with the preschoolers among the guests giving Xanxus their hand-made cards and a few paintings, which he immediately has stuck up on the walls and awards them twenty points apiece –and iced biscuits– for their efforts. This sets the tone for the rest of the afternoon, with Grandma Vongola being awarded forty-five points for a genuinely hilarious story of one of her wartime escapades featuring Giotto Molinaro, Delfino Superbi in a dress, a flock of goats and a large number of severely outmatched Nazis, Federico winning ten points for a box of her husband's favourite chocolate and Massimo making a dramatic scene over 'only' getting two points upon claiming that surely his presence was gift enough, which makes all the kids laugh.

Massimo has actually given his littlest brother a proper gift but it's not a very child-friendly present, hence the theatrical melodrama. Said gift is a very fancy Flame Tech sniper rifle and was handed over mid-morning so as not to disrupt the party later.

The six- and seven-year-olds sing a range of songs in threes and fours –variously tunefully but all very enthusiastically– and get thirty points each, plus permission to help themselves to the crisps, fruit, cheese and meats now laid out on the various coffee tables scattered about the room and a promise of cake later. Then the older teenagers, other adults and attending Varia take their turns, starting with Alessia –whose gift of a violently pink and orange marbled silk tie, handkerchief and scarf set is _genius_ and wins her a toothy grin as well as fifty points– and ending with Pantera, who demonstrates that he can juggle for fifteen points.

Pantera's gift is also not party-friendly, being a small hand-written book of essays on Flames, their uses and their effects on behaviour compiled by the Superbi over the centuries. It's confidential family material, in fact, and Xanxus is only allowed to read it because Squalo is his Rain Officer and 'Tera is very fond of the new Tenth, so wore his father down on the subject. It's edited for names and family details, of course, but it's still far more than Xanxus was expecting and he has already hugged –and kissed– the Superbi Heir extensively for the princely gift right after lunch.

Xanna has hugged him too, and blushed when her ex teased her gleefully about how he is doing this for her sex life, as there are tons of fun things that can be done with Flames there that the Vongola were apparently too prudish to share with the younger generations and he doesn't want her to miss out. Her husband then accused 'Tera of angling for another threesome, which the Superbi Heir did not deny, so that might end up being very fun. Especially since now that she's pregnant, she can't exactly get pregnant _again_ …

There is then a short interlude for biscuits and more food and to prepare for the main event, which is what Tsuna, the older Vittore and most of the full-time fosterlings are participating in. Xanxus watches the setting-up of two screens, several standard lamps, a large painting of some Classical Greek ruins and a large stone vase with bemusement, but waits patiently until all the rushing around and muffled panic has died down and the next piece of entertainment is announced.

As 'an abridged Midsummer Night's Dream'; Xanna has really been looking forward to this.

The giggles and chuckles start as Risa strides confidently onto the 'stage' as Theseus, king of Thebes, wearing a sheet for a toga and a knitted beard, alongside the massive, muscular and cheerful Marius as Hippolyta in yellow leggings under a blue mini-dress, in bright contrast to his dusky skin, waist-length beaded hair extentions clicking cheerfully with every step. Luisa follows behind them, thick-rimmed glasses perched on her nose and clipboard in hand with a bevy of chickens at her heels, following the trail of seeds the older duo are surreptitiously scattering as they declare their lines.

Then Rossana bounces onto the stage as Egeus in a woolly grey beard, dragging Tsuna-as-Hermia with a flower wreath in his short hair and wearing a plain cream slip dress. One of Xanna's short cream under-slips that she dons on those rare occasions she has to put on a proper dress; Xanxus of course recognises it instantly. Following the duo are Delfina and Cecilia, also in togas and woolly beards; Delfina-as-Lysander is silent and communicates entirely by signing, gesture and body language, but comes with a disembodied male voice –that is definitely Dino Cavallone– translating so everyone can understand everything. Cecilia is clearly enjoying being Demetrius and the opportunity for drama, but is the only person reciting actual lines from the original play –translated into Italian that is– and the result is even more hilarious considering that everybody else is ad-libbing on the original theme.

By the time they get to Hermia and Lysander's speech on love Xanxus is already grinning –especially at how the chickens are coaxed 'off-stage' by a new trail of seeds in the wake of the departing cast-members– but the contents of the actual 'speech' has him wheezing quietly in his seat as Tsuna has boiled his part down to 'Demetrius is old, hairy and can't cook, I don't know what my father sees in him' and Delfina's signed response is 'My cousin has a fast ship, let's elope and be pirates' which is very, _very_ Superbi _indeed_.

Then Falco wanders on stage in a little black dress as Helena, as woefully formal and poetic as his older sister's performance of Demetrius and has to pause two sentences into his flowery speech so that Xanxus can stop laughing.

The kids are all much more confident and smug after the interruption, getting into the swing of the performance and hamming it up as there are more breaks so the audience can calm down.

Natsuki makes an excellent Puck in swimming trunks and body paint like the night sky, Luca is a surprisingly fabulous Titania –in one of Xanna's tutus since right now the thirteen-year-old is almost exactly her height and build– cooing over the borrowed toddler playing the changeling, Naomi as Oberon in tight black leather and spiked blue hair is clearly a Jareth tribute and makes for a fabulous double act with their almost-identical younger sibling; the respective fairy entourages are all wearing masks, leather, tulle and sparkles, followed by the chickens again, this time with feathers Altered in bright, unnatural colours.

The rapid-fire snark-off between Oberon and Titania is a thing of incredible beauty, alternating between dramatic poetry and playground back-chat and back again; Xanna's really pleased to have had the forethought to capture it on film. Xanxus for one is definitely going to want to see it again, as he's laughing so hard –if mostly silently now– that he's probably missing bits.

The back-and-forth over the 'flower' is instead over a little packet of virulently neon purple eye-shadow that glows under the newly-lit ultraviolet lights, which is generously applied to the eyelids of first Titania, then Lysander, whose waking about-turn and vigorously signed –and somewhat crude– appreciation of Helena is made all the more hilarious by Dino's earnest delivery of the verbal translation.

The terrible acting of the rude mechanicals is even funnier when the six arguing players are clearly trying to emulate the mannerisms of their least-favourite class-mates, then Natsuki Enchants the laconic Takeshi who is playing Bottom with an actual illusion of a mule's head… and a squeaky voice that sounds like the nine-year-old is breathing helium.

The following exchange is a masterpiece of not-entirely-deliberate comic timing, with Luca's Titania swooning and fluttering at Takeshi's baffled Bottom, whose politely deadpan replies have Grandma Vongola hiccupping into her handkerchief and 'Tera wheezing alarmingly as he clutches a cushion to his chest. Xanxus is shaking in his seat, laughing so hard he's crying, and even Xanna is having great difficulty breathing through her giggles.

Then Cecilia's Demetrius and Falco's Helena have a melodramatic quote-off, Lysander offering dry signed commentary, followed by Demetrius also acquiring some luminous eye-shadow and performing a dramatic face-heel turn to declare herself completely smitten by the alarmed and repulsed Helena. Hermia then arrives back on the scene, slightly dishevelled with his flower crown crooked.

Helena's dramatic accusation of Hermia 'setting her up' is met by polite confusion from Tsuna, then the bewitched twosome join the fray, verbally savaging the newly-arrived 'girl'. Tsuna's response is to turn on Falco and voice all kinds of loud accusations, some of which are clearly things he's heard thrown around in lover's spats and quarrels between girls who've set their sights on the same boy. All through this Oberon and Puck are watching from the sidelines, supposedly 'hidden' behind one of her potted trees, Oberon petting a neon blue chicken, frowning, wincing and occasionally gifting their younger sibling with a Disappointed Look, Puck wilting and shuffling and becoming ever more blatantly awkward with every Look.

The following chase scene is very well-done, ending with Puck neatly wiping away Lysander's eye-shadow. Then there's a short scene with Titania and Bottom, who also both fall asleep near the principles after which Puck darts on-stage to wipe away Titania's eye-shadow as well, then Oberon arrives to wake his queen and they resolve their differences. Then Theseus and Hippolya –plus chickens restored to their original bland colouring– wander onstage once more with Egeus, the principles awaken and everything works out, with Lysander restored to doting on Hermia and Demetrius with eyes still brightly painted and cooing over Helena. They all wander off again, leaving Takeshi to wake, fully human again, and marvel at his 'dream'.

The play ends there, not bothering with the fifth act at all, and Xanxus manages to pull himself together enough to lead a round of applause as the cast piles onstage to take a bow and he awards them all a hundred points each. In a rather uneven voice, while still grinning madly. Then he announces the arrival of the cake, which prevents any fights or upsets breaking out among the younger children, who might take offense at losing the contest so badly once they remember that it exists at all.

Cake however is very distracting, especially when Xanna reveals fifteen minutes later –after the first round of cake has been devoured– that the 'grand prize' for the winners is that she's paid the local gelateria to come up and park a freezer van on the lawn-meadow, so everybody can have ice-cream after their cake. The rush for the terrace doors by the acting troupe is completely predictable, with the younger children scrambling to keep up and a few adults straggling along behind to keep order.

"You set this up?" her husband asks quietly, still toying with his own slice of cake.

"It was Naomi's idea and Falco did most of the organising, with a lot of help from Dino who agreed to do lighting and cues," Xanna says, smiling over her own cake. "I just helped them find people to talk props with and sourced some of the costumes." She pauses, "oh, and I helped them interpret the script too; explaining what the fancy speeches were actually about so they could put their own spin on them."

"Not much spin, in some cases," her husband comments with a warm chuckle.

"Falco and Cecilia both really like Shakespeare," Xanna agrees with a smile. "It's something they're bonding over." Considering their relationship was in a really bad place this time last year with a hefty helping of mutual trauma standing between them, they've really come amazingly far to be able to plot this together and yell at each-other dramatically on stage.

"Best ever birthday," Xanxus murmurs in her ear, kissing her cheek. "Thank-you."

* * *

Xanxus takes a Varia mission between his birthday and their wedding anniversary, then another one ten days after it; the first time Lussuria stays over for the three nights her husband is absent and the second Maínomai stays over with Pýř for the single night her husband is away from the Iron Fort.

They could have stayed for two nights but Xanxus assured her he'd be home the following evening, so despite his not being back yet at ten thirty she goes to bed alone.

She wakes briefly to the sound and feel of her husband getting in an indeterminate amount of time later, snuggles up when a warm body slides within arms' reach and drops off again.

Morning is a little more awkward: she wakes to find Squalo trapped between Xanxus and herself, fast asleep but squirming and moaning her husband's Varia Name. Well, that could definitely be one reason why he's been avoiding them. Crushes are embarrassing and Sky bonds do make puberty even more confusing than usual.

Xanna's own brief Sky-induced crush was very obviously Not Normal because her Sky was twelve at the time and she knew very well that she was not attracted to children. It helped that Xanxus was always right there, wanting hugs and sleeping wrapped around her and vocally claiming her as his, so the crush was short-lived and swiftly transmuted into solid sensual attachment and an underlying urge for skin contact, which she has never had any trouble satisfying and keeping distinct from sexual attraction. Even now.

Xanxus may have experienced something similar for her at some point, but she has no idea as he's never mentioned it. Squalo however has clearly been running away from the feeling, so is probably far more severely afflicted than either of them ever were. It could easily be more than 'just' a longing for closer and more sustained contact with his Sky, but they're not going to be able to determine that until he's settled and worked things out for himself.

The seventeen-year-old wakes with a start as he hits his climax, which is also when Xanxus opens his eyes and tightens an arm proprietorially around his Rain.

"Boss?" Squalo pants, blinking for a second before awareness and panic hit and he tries to wriggle free. Her husband calmly rolls on top of the younger teenager, pinning his wrists and legs to the mattress.

"Good morning," Xanna says, leaning closer to kiss both men on the cheek in turn. Squalo makes a mortified whimpering noise and goes limp, closing his eyes.

"Got our shark back," Xanxus drawls smugly, not letting up on the Rain for an instant.

"I can see that," Xanna agrees mildly. "Has he explained his reasons yet?"

"Stupid reasons." So yes he has.

"You are entitled to your opinion, but I'd like to hear them too, please."

Xanxus bends down to nudge Squalo's cheek with his nose. "Tell pixie," he orders.

Squalo screws his eyes up tighter but complies. "I fancy Boss, okay? Didn't want to fuck up your marriage," he takes a quick breath, naked chest heaving, "and I kind of fancy you too and I don't _want_ to and looking at you is awkward and confusing." True; silly but true.

Yes, Squalo definitely has a crush. One he is being blatantly illogical about. "Squalo, you are my fellow Guardian and I can say very confidently that close Sky bonds have a sensual component," she tells him gently. "Cuddling my Sky is very nice; has always been very nice. Even Pýř likes leaning into Xanxus sometimes and he is not remotely touchy-feely. Part of why Mammon has usurped a portion of the Iron Fort's security is so he can continue feeling Boss through his Flames for hours on end. Lussuria hugs both of us regularly and Bel invades our bedroom at least twice a month and has been doing so for years now. This is normal." She pokes him in the jaw, "and trying to avoid it just leads to the Flame version of skin hunger."

"You don't think it's a crush."

"No, I _know_ it is a crush; you say it is and you're the expert on yourself. I'm just saying that your determined avoidance of skin contact when you were younger and a year spent well away from any kind of interaction with your Sky has made everything much more intense and urgent." Xanna sighs. "Running away was a ridiculous thing to do and you know it; avoidance never fixes anything and we really missed you."

Squalo relaxes slightly, opening his eyes a crack. "Sorry, you."

"Punishment due," Xanxus purrs wickedly, making Squalo open his eyes wide and try to squirm free again, instantly divining that his Sky has something he really isn't going to like in mind. Then her husband bends down and kisses the Rain full on the mouth, Flames wrapping tightly around him and the younger teenager goes limp again, body shuddering and utterly overwhelmed by the sensual onslaught. Xanna watches for a little while before poking her husband in the ribs.

"Stop that," she scolds, "consent is important."

Xanxus lifts his head up, shifting his weight slightly and licking his lips as under him Squalo pants hoarsely, jaw slack and eyelids fluttering as his entire body trembles.

"Wants me," their Sky counters, his voice low and dark and velvety, "wants my hands and mouth on him." The Rain shudders under him, making a breathy whimpering noise and shifting trapped wrists, the prosthetic fingers of his gloved left hand flexing. "Wants me to make him writhe and beg."

True, true and true again. Well, fine.

"I am your wife," she reminds him sweetly, "so all bedroom decisions are joint decisions."

Xanxus nods, accepting the correction. "True. What do you want, wife?"

"It's both of us or neither of us, and I do not want to do this at all without a proper three-way discussion beforehand, considering Squalo has explicitly stated that the idea of being attracted to me makes him uncomfortable."

Her husband sighs. "Point. Sorry." He releases Squalo's wrists and rolls off the younger teen, then leans back over the Rain's head to give Xanna a kiss. "I'll order breakfast."

Xanna gives Squalo ten seconds after Xanxus leaves the room to wallow in, then pokes the seventeen-year-old in the ribs. "And don't think I didn't hear that bit about fucking up my marriage; I'd like to see you try." That's such a melodramatic and self-centred thing to say.

Squalo opens his eyes again to glare at her. "The hell do you mean by that, you?"

"I mean that the most likely outcome of you propositioning my Sky has _always_ been him telling me about it and us deciding between us if we wanted to invite you for a threesome," Xanna replies tartly. "You wouldn't be the first Superbi in our bed either." Never mind that Falena got there first and it was entirely non-sexual back then; Squalo saw and should remember having found Pantera there the first time and very obvious aftermath.

The Rain looks like she just smacked him around the face with a fish. "Oh."

"Yes, oh."

"I am so fucking _dumb_." He sounds completely disgusted.

"You are seventeen; you'll grow out of it." Provided he makes an effort to do so, that is.

"Sorry." Squalo hesitates for a moment, then drags himself up into a sitting position. Xanna follows suit, leaning into the teenager a little as they both slump against the head of the bed.

"You feel a lot like Boss," the Rain says after a short pause, mismatched hands settling in his lap as he fiddles with the leather glove that ends halfway down his left forearm, protecting the prosthetic so things can't get caught in the joints.

"The first thing Ninth did when Xanxus brought me home with him was contest Xanxus's bond with me," Xanna shares quietly, having –after nine years– finally got most of the facts in order. "It was also the second, third and fourth things he did. Xanxus spent the entire first three years of having me as his bonded Guardian constantly, ferociously and publically claiming me as such, both verbally and by wrapping me in his Flames. I was Latent at the time. I'm Active now, but what we're comfortable with in Flame terms is considerably more intimate and all-encompassing than what Ninth had with any of his Guardians or the other Vongola men have with theirs. As a result our Harmony is tighter and Xanxus's subconscious perception of what Harmony entails is far more encompassing."

"So because your bond is intimate and was his first one, he expects all his other bonds to be like that," Squalo summarises, "so they are."

"I believe so."

"So I was fucked from the outset."

Xanna sighs. "Squalo, how old was our Sky when _I_ turned sixteen?"

The Rain considers this. "You fucked yourself over too," he deduces, wry amusement pervading his tone.

"I at least was able to recognise that there was no way in hell I would ever be sexually attracted to a twelve-year-old, so it had to be something else," Xanna informs him dryly, "despite not even being Active then. I thought it was due to Xanxus being the only person I actually trusted completely and my brain being a hormonal mess, so was able to get past it without him noticing." Although that kiss on his grandma's couch after he turned thirteen had made it all ten times more awkward for a short while, as her hormones had all gotten overexcited again and becoming Active really hadn't helped much afterwards. Later on she'd been able to sense his Flames' constant mingling with hers and had got used to it. It's baseline normal for her now and has been for years.

"Bel hitting puberty is going to be a riot," Squalo mutters with a snort.

"Of course our bonds making things fuzzy on the sensual side doesn't mean we can't all have sex regardless," Xanna points out lightly. "It's not like we're not the most important people in each-other's lives already, or as though any of us are going anywhere. So really, as long as you're comfortable with it and have a clean bill of health I'm all for having fun." She smiles. "It's not like you can get me pregnant right now." This is her news and she's allowed to tell, even though Xanxus will be sorry he missed it.

"I, you, what? You're!" Squalo squawks, twisting around to gape at her.

"Uh-huh." Mostly it's been affecting her appetite and libido so far, although she's probably going to start showing soon. It's been nearly three months since she conceived after all.

"Not Quality anymore then." Interesting thing for his brain to jump to.

"Not currently," Xanna agrees, "and I know he'd much rather have you here keeping an eye on me while he's away on missions or doing Tenth things." The 'he' in this case being Xanxus.

"Oh." Squalo's clearly picked up a lot more subtext in that statement than she was aware of putting in, as he finally settles back against the bedstead and relaxes into her properly. "Okay, you."

"Okay, what?"

The Rain tilts his head down and smirks sideways at her. "Remember when I said I wanted to see Boss terrorise all the old farts?"

Very vaguely, "yes."

"I also want to see their heads explode trying to work out our relationship."

Fair enough; Xanna has suspected her marriage is going to end up some flavour of poly for a while now, although she only wants to have children with Xanxus and Squalo may eventually start up a relationship with somebody else, like Lussuria already has. Lussuria, who has volunteered to help out if she and Xanxus ever want to explore bondage in greater depth than they are comfortable attempting without a guide, despite being completely committed to his ongoing relationship with Dino.

"So that's in the long term; what about today?"

Squalo hums. "You're hot and you like me as a person and I trust you," he says judiciously. "I don't mind experimenting."

A reminder that Squalo is at heart a fairly normal teenage male. "Despite my still being technically your legal guardian?" He's a few months off eighteen yet and legally speaking that's a bit iffy. Then again, mafia; if he's fine with it...

The Rain twitches. "Oi, don't remind me," he complains grumpily; "been awkward enough dreaming you."

"Were they fun dreams, Captain?" Xanna asks a little teasingly.

The seventeen-year-old growls, twisting around and leaning in so they are nose to nose. "Could show you how fun they were, you," he threatens, eyes dark.

"See you've resolved your differences," Xanxus purrs, letting himself back into the bedroom again and closing the door.

"What kept you?" Squalo grumbles, settling back against the head of the bed.

Xanxus smirks. "Too early for breakfast," he confesses shamelessly, "so chatted to Pýř until you two clicked."

The Rain tips his head back and makes a disgusted sound in his throat. "Boss you shit." Xanna rather suspects both Sky and Cloud have been eavesdropping and have heard every word; they wouldn't loiter so close otherwise.

"You love me," her husband points out, voice deep and smug.

"I hope your kid turns out just like you."

"Pixie told you?"

"While propositioning me for a threesome," Squalo confirms with a smirk of his own. "Up for that, Boss?"

Xanxus settles on the sheets in the middle of the bed, crossing his legs. "You starting then, pixie?" he asks, something hot and liquid coiling in his Flames as they spread out to fill the room.

"Anything in particular you had in mind, crow?" Xanna asks mildly. Her sex drive is really going to town at the moment, so she's up for considerably more things than is usually the case. See her willingness to seduce Squalo now she's sure he's into it too. Which is probably a pregnancy thing, but that's no reason to not do something.

"Want to watch you with the shark," her husband admits candidly. "Want to see you enjoying his body and getting hot and bothered by how much he likes you touching him. Then once you let him finish I'm going to do you while he watches." He smirks again. "Then I'm going to trash him." Sky Flames can make for a very short refractory interval if a person knows what they're doing, which Xanxus is mastering very quickly since getting that handwritten book from 'Tera for his birthday. She's really enjoying the learning process too. She almost wants to know which Sky discovered that first and how the Superbi learned about it; there's a lot of Superbi blood in the Vongola family tree –and vice versa– if not in the recent generations of the Don line. Lots of historical options to choose from, no matter how obscure some of them may be.

Squalo whines very quietly in the back of his throat as Xanna gazes thoughtfully at him. "You up for that, Captain?" she asks oh so mildly.

"Very up," the teenager agrees, smirk both eager and self-deprecating at the honest pun.

"Well then, strip." The sticky and stained pyjama trousers are tugged off and tossed off the bed and yes, he is up for it. Xanna slowly removes her own pyjama shirt for her appreciative audience then leans into the seventeen-year-old swordsman, who meets her halfway for a kiss.

He tries to take control but she slides a hand down his chest then easily muscles him onto his back and pins him down while he's distracted, enjoying the struggle and how his Flames flicker and slide against hers as her husband's Flames swirl around and through them both. This is going to be so much fun; she's has always enjoyed setting her will against her fellow Guardian's and this is a new and interesting setting for that clash.

And maybe she can add a few Lightning-themed pages to the Superbi essays for Pantera's next birthday; he deserves that much as reciprocation and retaliation for implying she and her husband are prudish and boring in bed despite his having enjoyed a threesome with them before they were even dating.

* * *

Her little girl is beautiful. Perfect. A warm armful of life and hope with a fuzzy mop of platinum spikes and the same nose as those few childhood photographs of her husband's mother.

"You, what did you decide on for names?" Squalo asks, leaning in close to peer at the baby's wide, unfocused blue eyes.

Names have been an interesting topic of conversation; the Vongola have no shortage of naming traditions but none of them are actually Traditions and while most of the past Dons had traditional Christian names, that's more to do with Sicily being Catholic than it being a rule. First was probably called Ambrogio to get called 'Giotto', Second was Ricardo which is Germanic via Spain, Third went by his nickname of Pessimo but Xanna discovered recently –in those journals belonging to Third's Lightning– that his first name was actually Pio, Fourth was Pietro, Fifth was Duate –Spanish again– Sixth was Simora –probably a misspelling of 'Simone' in his birth records– Seventh was Fabio, Eighth is Daniela and Ninth was Timoteo. Then there is Xanxus, which is a corruption of Xanthus and therefore Classical Greek.

It's the Classical Greek angle that Xanna wants to stick with, in honour of Xanxus's mother naming her son as she did and his grandmother Clio.

"Husband?"

Xanxus smiles at her from where he's leaning against the wall, eyes soft and dazed as he stares at his baby daughter. "Go for it, wife."

So she's getting her way; perfect. "Antiope." Antiope Marino, born May tenth nineteen-ninety-eight.

"Isn't that Greek?" Squalo clearly can't quite place the name, which is not a surprise; it's pretty obscure.

"Antiope, daughter of Ares and Otrera, Amazon warrior," she tells him with a grin.

Leaning against the other wall opposite her husband, Pýř shakes with suppressed laughter. Bel, sat cross-legged on the floor and fiddling with his knives, cackles loudly.

"Mu, well I'm sure she will live up to that, being Boss's daughter," Mammon says from their perch on the bedside table. Lussuria is the only Guardian absent, but that's because she assisted the midwife through the birth and is currently fast asleep next door. The new mother is tired too –labour took almost fifteen hours– but Lussuria got called in to help with another patient yesterday and had just been preparing for bed when Xanna woke up with labour pains.

Xanna certainly hopes her daughter will live up to her namesake. The name is also an example and promise; it breaks down into 'against' and 'voice', and she wants her daughter to follow her heart and fulfil her dreams, no matter what the voices of social propriety and tradition tell her. She is the firstborn of a Vongola Don and life is not going to be easy for her, but she will have everything they can give her.

* * *

Xanna is doing Varia paperwork, four-month-old Antiope in the Quiet Room with Saat –formerly Zwei– being cuddled and doted on, when Kinshi –formerly Acht– careens into the office, dragging a bruised and sheepish Dino and grinning in unabashed delight, about half-a-dozen other assassins drifting into the doorway behind them.

"Officer, Officer, he's mine and I'm keeping him!" The Lightning carols loudly, twirling and hugging himself. "He killed Mantis falling down the stairs and regrets nothing!"

Xanna pauses at this nonsensical yet true statement and tries to break it down. Why would –ah, Flame-bond. "Congratulations on snagging a Sky," she tells her former apprentice warmly. "Are you staying?"

Kinshi huffs. "Of course I'm staying! This is the best job in the world and employment is important. But I'll only be Varia for another decade max anyway, and then I'll have the rest of my life to make sure my Sky doesn't get in too much trouble."

"And Mantis?"

Dino's smile slides out of sheepishness and into something more steely. "He was threatening my god-niece," the Cavallone Heir says lightly, "and that's not allowed."

Antiope. Dino murdered a Varia assassin inside Varia headquarters for threatening her daughter. "Are you sure you don't want to be Varia, little horse?" she asks teasingly, "Because you are ticking a rather alarming number of boxes here. Walking in and murdering someone is practically a job interview, you know, and you've already got an apprentice name." His cutesy accidental nickname counts, especially since everybody uses it and has for years now.

The blond eighteen-year-old pales. "I still trip over my feet half the time, even with Michela and Giulio backing me up!" Michela is Dino's Rain and Giulio is his Cloud; with two Guardians the Cavallone Heir has become much better at managing his coordination problems but they're still there. Especially in the absence of said Guardians.

"That's not a 'no';" an assassin loitering behind him points out reasonably; Xanna thinks he might be a Cloud.

"It _is_ a 'no'!" Dino retorts. "I am my brother's financial manager, not a Varia assassin!" The Cavallone have gone from 'barely solvent' to 'unexpectedly flush' in the past twelve months, which is almost entirely Dino's doing; Cesco is very proud. Also very relieved to no longer have so much on his plate and finally socialising more of his own volition.

"Should have thought of that before interviewing," one of the newer Rains says laconically.

"You speak nine languages, right?" a Mist asks rhetorically. "We could have an actual Sky Division."

The teenager's eyes skip over his unhelpfully encouraging audience and back to Xanna. "I am not signing anything Varia-related unless it is a contract enabling me to _employ_ Varia," he says firmly, "which is what I came here for in the first place."

"Not visiting Lussuria then," Xanna comments, purely to tease.

The Sky grins, barely blushing at all. "Business before pleasure, Officer."

"Very well then," she agrees, impressed and amused by his composure, "Squalo's in the main upstairs office so go bug him; Kinshi, we need to go over your contract and sort out a new set of forms for you and your Sky to sign concerning who has rights to your time and so on." This will be the first time those forms are being used, but they were written last year when it become clear that Natsuki is probably going to end up being a Varia assassin and Tsuna isn't; Tsuna lacks the temperament necessary for Varia-type work and trying would destroy him. Having Guardians but not their Sky in a Vongola organisation where confidentiality and commitment are important could create issues, so Information got together with her husband and wrote up a new set of contracts against future need.

A good thing too; Mukuro is proving a remarkably quick study and he's only not Quality yet because he can't meet the fitness standards since unlike Bel, he didn't murder an Officer right after signing the admittance paperwork and thereby get to bypass the entry requirements for the Varia proper. Since he's eleven and shooting up like a weed, that's unlikely to take much longer; the physical standards for Mists are lower anyway.

Dino muscles his way out through the crush, resolutely ignoring the speculative assassins murmuring about how best to properly bring him into the fold and what would be a good Name for him. He's not ever going to escape the Varia; he may never officially join but he's stuck with them now and was even before killing Mantis, because he is clearly completely serious about his relationship with Luss and the Sun is career Varia. He's probably going to stay on as Head of Varia Medical even after retiring, or Xanxus may create a special position for his Sun Guardian so he can flip-flop at will between Varia and Iron Fort Medical.

It's wonderful seeing Luss so happy and this is not at all how she thought things would so when she mentioned Dino's crush on her to the Sun back before Xanxus inherited. It's rather lovely how well it's turned out.

* * *

Antiope is nearly one now and her eyes are shading rapidly into purple; Xanxus has no idea if his eyes did this, but Makoto and Emi's little Sena had his eyes change from brown to red by the time he was two, so this is probably the same thing. Luss is keeping an eye on the process so that future generations will have the information on hand, but that's not why she's getting looked at today.

"Again? Already?" It's Delfina's ninth birthday tomorrow and this is not exactly a present the little Superbi will appreciate.

"Ten weeks pregnant sugar-lump," Lussuria confirms dryly, "and I am very glad I kept you on the healthiest and most nutritional diet possible all through breastfeeding and weaning Antiope, because there's a lot that can go wrong in foetal development in the first month if you aren't getting enough of the right things. I think we can put those contraceptives R&D finally came up with that didn't make you ill on the 'ineffective' pile; unless of course you forgot to take them around the middle of February?"

What was she doing in the middle of February? Mostly business as usual and doting on her daughter. "No, I've been taking them daily since November as prescribed," she says, cradling her stomach in baffled wonderment. Another baby? She adores Antiope –everybody adores Antiope, her father and great-grandmothers in particular– but hasn't really thought about having another one yet.

"Doing anything different?"

"Not that I'm aware of. I mean, somebody could have switched the pill-packets around as a prank but I think we would have noticed the intrusion," Xanna says, frowning. "This is starting to look like a Flame-thing."

"If it is a Flame thing I am going to be very upset," Lussuria chirps, voice deceptively airy. "Finding out that nobody's bothered to work out a reliable contraceptive pill for Active female Lightnings would be terrible. There are variations that work for everybody else after all." Xanna had a few interesting documented issues even before going Active, but the Sun has succeeded in pinning all those down properly. The contraceptive problem however is proving recalcitrant.

"The detailed reports from the various clinical trials are all kept on file in the main R&D archive," Xanna reminds him, "so you could go read them and find out." She could always take the Mist-adjusted pharmaceuticals since that's her secondary Flame, but that's likely to be ineffective too; Flame-interactions with medication are complicated –as she knows far too well from the many Vittore health crises– and require careful, personalised management strategies.

"I think I will honey-bun. Take care, no more sparring and have fun telling everyone," the Sun says absently, kissing her cheek. "Think I'll check the betting pool too, just to see who's benefitting from this in case there's mischief afoot."

"Good luck, Luss." Xanna hopes there were a few Active Lightnings in the trial group, otherwise the Sun Officer may decide to go through _all_ the clinical trial reports on drug responses in Actives to see if any of her other issues are overlooked there. If so, it's really going to blow up in a truly spectacular manner. How can the medics possibly arrange appropriate healthcare if the drugs don't work?

* * *

Xanna is doting on her thirteen-month-old daughter and trying not to move much –June is bad enough even without being four months pregnant– when Mammon joins her in her sitting room.

"Aria says you helped her break the Arcobaleno Curse," the tiny Mist says abruptly.

Mammon is Arcobaleno; of _course_ Mammon is Arcobaleno. How did she not make that connection immediately? Mammon is physically a toddler! This is definitely a Mist-thing of some kind to have hidden that truth so effectively.

"I was curious about it and pointed out a few obvious failings," she says instead, not bothering with the obvious. "That was a few years back; the changes worked?"

"I am no longer Cursed," Mammon agrees. "The one who Cursed us took it back in favour of Aria's replacement system, which still needs a Sky to manage it but does not carry an early death sentence. I believe she intends to marry immediately."

"Fede will be delighted." He's only been trying to win her over for the past three years.

"Why did you do it?"

Xanna looks up properly from her daughter to the Mist, who has removed their hood and is looking her in the eye for the first time ever. "Curses are cruel," she says quietly. "They taint everything, even the things you thought you managed to salvage. That's why they're Curses. No Curse can ever be turned to a higher and beneficial purpose; that defeats the point of them. You can't save the world with a Curse: you're just making everything worse and deferring the inevitable. Besides, the whole premise was fallacious and Stupid and pressure cookers are better designed than that. I couldn't let it stand; it was an affront to sanity and sense."

"Not for anybody in particular?"

"I only just realised now that you are an Arcobaleno," –she feels very Dumb there– "Reborn is an annoying, arrogant arse and I've not met any others bar Aria, and that was only once. Fede's smitten with Aria and would miss her, but death happens. It's one of life's inevitabilities." She didn't offer alternatives so people wouldn't die; she offered alternatives so those who might later be affected would get to _live_. "I wanted the continued existence of the planet to rest on something less flimsy than other people's suffering. I live here; my descendants are going to live here. My children will not bear the burden of long-dead people's ineffectual stupidity."

There is a long, thoughtful pause, in which Xanna copies her daughter's happy faces and talks to her quietly while the Mist ponders her words.

"My name is Viper," the former Arcobaleno says eventually, "and I can see it has been an oversight not getting to know you better, Xanna Vittore."

"Nice to be on first-name terms, Viper," Xanna replies, holding out a hand to shake. What else is there to say?

* * *

She's sitting at a table on the meadow-lawn at ten o' clock at night, enjoying the cool and listening to Cesco and her husband talk about Cesco's new ideas on using Flame Tech to cushion impact in cars and motorbikes, occasionally commenting on circuitry and load and charge, when a familiar member of staff –why is she still so terrible with names?– walks through the open doors behind them with an Arcobaleno in a miniature motorcycle suit trotting at their heels.

Former Arcobaleno; he's not wearing the necklace-thing and Viper did say the Curse was broken.

"Tenth, Donna, Don Cavallone, this is Skull de Mort, Cloud Arcobaleno," the suited staff member says as a much more unobtrusive staff member slides a stepped chair –obviously designed for miniature adults not actual toddlers– into the opposite side of the table to where the three of them are clustered.

"Hi!" The tiny Cloud says brightly, bouncing his way up the chair and onto the table. "Aria said you helped unCurse us so I came over to say thanks!"

Cesco stills, turns and stares at Xanxus, who grins and points a thumb at her. "Xanna, is this what happens when I don't visit?" the Cavallone Don demands, waving his hands wildly. "You get bored and unravel the mysteries of the universe?"

"The Arcobaleno Curse is not one of the mysteries of the universe, Cesco," Xanna says tartly before turning to smile at the miniature biker with an octopus painted on his helmet, "and you are very welcome."

Skull removes his helmet to reveal a shock of messy purple hair and several piercings. "I'm really looking forwards to being able to ride a proper bike again," he confides, smile bright and voice chipper. "Hey, is that the new Ducati Monster S4 Foggy? How'd you get the blueprints?"

"Horse took one apart and drew his own," Xanxus says affably, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. "Designing Flame-Tech modifications," he taps different portions of the largest sheet of paper with his pencil, "better cooling, better shocks, more responsive steering. Crash cushioning proving elusive."

"Oh wow," the Cloud says, kneeling down on the tabletop between the citronella candles and glancing across the equations and rough diagrams scattered across the main blueprint on various scraps on paper. "You'd need to make it a two-part system to work, I think? Half in the suit, half on the bike and have them work together; every crash is different so it'd have to be flexible."

Cesco makes an enlightened sound in his throat, grabs a new sheet of paper and starts sketching, a rough motorbike outline with a rider taking shape under his pencil. "So depending on impact location? Can you give me some examples?"

"Sure!" the ex-Arcobaleno chirps, leaning over. "See, if you take a hit here then the bike's going to flip like this" –he twists his wrist– "so impact points are along here, and–"

Xanxus quietly scoots closer to her as the miniature stuntman and the mafia Don really get into the conversation, talking to and over each-other and skipping from point to point with ease.

"Horse found a Cloud," he comments quietly, grinning as he sips his drink.

Is that what this is? Their friend pretty much snap-bonding over motorcycles? Good for him. "Well how's that for prestige, snagging the strongest Cloud on the planet?" Xanna murmurs, amused. Skull is very clearly not remotely mafia, loves stunt biking with every fibre of his being and is incredibly comfortable in his own skin to an extent she's never seen before in a Cloud. He obviously doesn't care about physical 'territory' or controlling anything except himself. Not biddable –those piercings indicate a certain level of 'I will do what I want and you can't stop me'– but steady and focused and fully in tune with himself. Cesco literally could not do better.

"Cute," her husband agrees cheerfully, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

* * *

Xanna's waters break at the beginning of the fifteenth birthday party Falco arranges for his big sister, which could have been a disaster except that Cecilia is completely ecstatic to share her birth date with Tenth's second daughter and insists this is her 'best birthday present ever!' Apparently she's always wanted a little sister and this definitely counts.

Nobody mentions that Cecilia and Falco's parents now have another two children –both boys– despite there not having been any announcement or fuss made over Donna Bianchi in the presumed pregnancy periods; their father evidently picked up another mistress right after Falco's mother died and is bringing her sons into his family. Cecilia's mother doesn't seem to care and is rumoured to be very fond of both boys; Xanna suspects the woman is much happier for not having to conceive and give birth to her husband's heirs herself.

Xanxus again bows to her choice of name and they call their new baby Melanippe, keeping to the Amazon theme. He teasingly asks her what she would have called a son, then laughs when she confesses that she has no idea; there really aren't many men in classical Greek mythology who both weren't complete assholes and didn't die tragically. Perseus and Telemachus come to mind, but that's pretty much it.

Like Antiope, Melanippe is born with white-blonde hair, but unlike her older sister her eyes are dark brown. This is rather surprising when Xanxus's eyes are crimson and Xanna's are a very pale grey-green, but Flames make a mockery of normal genetics on a regular basis so this is not particularly shocking. Antiope's eyes are now a vibrant, bloody red exactly like her father's –although her hair is still pale blonde– and Xanna suspects her second daughter's eyes may end up the same way; that unusual scarlet is definitely dominant. Melanippe also has curls, something that is from her side of the family, and it's completely delightful.

Viper is completely shocked by Xanna's request that the Mist be her new daughter's godparent, but agrees instantly and is soon plotting all the things the girl will need to have and know as she grows older, such as why saving money is important and how to haggle. Pantera is delighted to be godfather; Xanna knows he'll manage all the more traditional godparent things just fine. Antiope's godparents are Falena and Cesco, who both dote outrageously on her older girl and insist on babysitting regularly.

Her husband has rearranged the Vongola so he only works half-days for most of the week, as that's all the time he needs to stay on top of the paperwork. There are irregularly timed inspections of the various Houses every year and he takes at least one Varia mission a month, but his largest time commitment is to her and the children –all the children– and she loves him for it. His next major commitment –after paperwork– is to R&D, mostly Development; they've cracked the mobile phone challenge, renewable energy programmes are being rolled out across the Alliance –free energy is very appealing to everyone in the Underworld in fact– and it's starting to look like Squalo might be getting a new prosthetic that responds directly to his nervous system within the next year or so.

She's happy; life is good, despite it having turned out that yes, R&D _haven't_ ever done any proper contraceptive clinical trials involving female Active Lightnings. Lussuria threw a fit, Xanxus got involved and now there's a specific fund for pharmaceutical research and clinical trials on Lightnings; the lack of contraceptives is not the only glaring omission.

Well, at least Lorenzo is back from teaching college now and running a 'physical learning course', which is essentially an afternoon school for Lightnings, to teach them a range of subjects –including Flame-training– outside the usual rigid classroom environment. The main effect of her husband centralising Lightning training three years ago was that all Lightning training for pre-teens was immediately discontinued, with nobody being forced into Flame-Activation and therefore ending up at the Iron Fort to be taught, which has probably been even more beneficial to the children in question.

Lorenzo's little school counts as 'centralised training', but as it's afternoons-only families can keep their children at home and not feel that they're losing all control like they would if they sent their Lightnings to live at the Iron Fort; it is subsequently very popular, especially since it includes a crèche for pre-schoolers.

There's a long waiting list despite it only having been open for two months and Lorenzo is trying to find both capable Active Lightnings to provide teacher training to and regular teachers in the know about Flames who lack internalised prejudice against Lightnings; it's proving rather challenging for him and he's already eyeing the Varia. Xanna has thus far fended off poaching attempts by directing him to Tyrant for names and addresses of retirees, but that probably won't last.

Then again, some of her older Lightnings could enjoy a career in teaching. They certainly dote on the Vittore and don't seem to have much trouble handing on useful skills. Maybe she should see how they feel about it? So long as they are fully aware of what's appropriate, it should be doable.

* * *

Babies are engrossing. It's definitely built-in, so parents don't accidentally kill the fragile and completely dependent little life-form they are now fully responsible for.

Xanna remembers her father telling her that the most terrifying part of parenthood is realising that you have complete responsibility and no control. Once you start adapting to that dichotomy, of being fully responsible and lacking so much as a single drop of control, then you can start to consider yourself a proper adult, because the truth of life is that we have no control over anything save ourselves. To assume anything else is illusion and delusion and childish egotism.

She never once entertained the delusion that she was ever in control of her Sky, no matter the age difference or how he looked to her for guidance when he was younger, but then again she was never responsible either. He was responsible for her.

The Vittore were rather more enlightening there; she never had delusions of control there either and was nominally responsible, but it wasn't a full-time responsibility and she delegated most of the difficult emotional support bits.

Antiope and Melanippe, her little Titi and Mela, are however completely hers –well hers and her husband's– and she cherishes that responsibility. The lack of control is however occasionally terrifying, especially now Titi is eighteen months and dashing everywhere, falling over regularly and babbling cheerfully at everybody she encounters. Her little girl's most frequent style of 'encounter' is to run right into somebody's shins, fall back onto her behind, look up and squeal happily, the babble and wave her arms until picked up for a cuddle, which she will swiftly lose interest in and try and wriggle away and back to the ground so she can run off again.

She has a knack for finding the Varia lurking around the Iron Fort keeping an eye on their Boss and Officers and usually lets them hold her for longer than anybody else gets to, bar her parents whom she will happily cuddle with and fall asleep on for hours on end.

Their pretty little princess is a wonderfully happy baby and Xanxus is completely in love with his eldest daughter; it's so cute it hurts. She's got him firmly wrapped around her tiny toddler fingers and knows that he's never going to say 'no' if she wants him to cuddle her. Not even if he's talking business or doing paperwork; if she can find him, she gets hugs.

Lightning Division have set up a rotation so that there's always somebody 'not working' in her eldest's general vicinity, because they are even more terrified of accidents than she is. Xanna used to corral toddlers at Sunday school and they're bouncier than they look, like tiny dodgem cars. These loitering off-duty assassins usually get 'bullied' into reading to her tiny highness, or playing with her toys with her, or cuddling her, or chasing her around the room as she squeals delightedly, or being napped on.

Xanxus calls his eldest 'my little canary', which is a very Varia pun based on her platinum blond hair and Xanna's preferred pet-name of Titi: the Italian dub of the old Sylvester and Tweety cartoons has the sassy little cage bird's name translated as Titi.

Mela means 'apple', which has led to lots of Varia jokes along the lines of 'I could eat her up' and 'the apple of my eye' along with questions as to whether she and Boss got her off a tree in the garden and if so, where's the rest of the harvest?

Her tiny two-month-old is a much quieter baby than Antiope was at the same age, so Xanna makes a conscious effort to provide a comparable level of comfort, communication and engagement. It's difficult with a far more loudly demanding toddler running around, but Titi loves her audience and can be distracted from her mother for a few hours at a time by playtime with her favourite people, which gives Xanna time to rest and dote on her itty-bitty apple, who is currently as bald as her fruit name-sake due to all her wispy blonde curls falling out a fortnight ago.

Little Melanippe's eyelashes are already darker than her sister's, which suggests her hair may grow back black like her father's. If so that would make her name rather ironically apt, seeing as it means 'black mare'. She has beautiful brown eyes too, dark and limpid and lovely. Everything about her is lovely, from her olivine skin to her perky nose –Xanna is pretty sure that is her nose on her daughter's face– and her tiny toes.

Her husband is inordinately proud of both his daughters and of her for having them; she's heard him boasting to the other Dons that they're going to grow up like their great-grandma, who ran the Vongola Alliance with an iron fist in her youth and is still gleefully terrifying people in her old age. Grandma Vongola is of course delighted by the prospect and spends hours on end doting on Antiope, despite being in her late eighties now and starting to lose her mobility.

Grandma Vongola has been spending lots more time with Xanna since she started showing the first time and she's heard all manner of stories about the former Eighth's own pregnancy, the early years raising her son as a single mother –Xanna's not entirely sure what the secret is concerning Ninth's father but there's definitely something there as Grandma is skilfully dancing around it– and anecdotes on her sisters and their pregnancies and children too. Xanna's also found out that Grandma always wanted a daughter, was a little disappointed at not even getting a granddaughter –until Xanxus and more recently Federico married, of course– and is completely over the moon at getting a great-granddaughter.

The second great-granddaughter is somehow even more delightedly received than the first one, with Xanxus being fiercely hugged by his grandma as she proclaims that he is,

"Such a generous grandson! Giving me two adorable little girls to dote on! Oh, you spoil me grandson, you spoil me so much, giving this old woman her heart's desire."

She then started crying, which was a little alarming but also oddly reassuring; nobody whose opinion actually matters is looking at Xanxus sideways for not having any sons yet. Sons were once seen as proof of masculinity, which is a ludicrous and outdated symbol of status that people still stupidly believe in. Xanna had been a little tense about that –Ninth was an only child who went on to have three sons of his own and Grandma had four brothers– but so far everybody seems to be focusing on how young and doting a parent the Vongola Tenth is rather than commenting on the gender of his children.

Xanna isn't sure how she feels about sons. She's a woman and despite the rather challenging relationship she remembers having with her mother she knows she was loved and wanted, that her mother had really wanted a little girl and had loved her dearly despite frequently struggling to express that love. She also knows her grandmother loved her, loved having a granddaughter and doting on her, despite said grandmother's even more fraught relationship with both her own mother and her daughter, Xanna's mother.

She remembers having a little brother, still loves the father that only exists in her memories and has been heavily involved in raising a lot of little boys since turning up thirteen, but that's not the same as having one all her own. A mini-Xanxus she could probably deal with, but what if a son ends up taking more after her side of things? What if who he takes after is somebody she doesn't even remember, seeing as her childhood memories may well not match up to the childhood her body experienced?

Little boys are far more mysterious than little girls and are not usually as brutally self-aware as Xanxus is and was even back when she first met him. Then again, she's not doing this alone; dealing with the complexities of little boys is one of the things husbands are for. That's one of the reasons it's good to marry somebody of a different gender, so you have one of each type of parent to model appropriate behaviour and there's always somebody who 'gets' the child's mental processes. Ideally at least; it doesn't always turn out that way and gender is not binary.

She isn't going to wish or pray for sons, but if she gets one she will give him everything she has and can. She can do no less. For the time being however she has two baby daughters to dote upon and that is all her dreams come true.

* * *

"I'm not sorry!"

Of course, having her own children does not mean the older kids stop needing her. In fact in some ways they need her more now, what with hitting puberty _hard_ due to being Active and getting thrown head-first into a wider and far more confusing world. Tsuna and the Vittore in particular; they're all in middle school now –Falco could be in high school but socialisation is more important than advancement, so he's getting extra after-school projects to keep him mentally stimulated– and some of the difficulties they're slamming into headlong are remarkably mundane.

Mundane but no less important to growing up and learning to think critically, logically and above all kindly about the people and situations around them.

"Please explain why you're not sorry, Natsuki."

The twelve-year-old glares suspiciously at her, but flops into the armchair opposite her and answers her. "Giuseppe Guzzo's been being mean to Takeshi since school started this year, calling him names because he's not Italian and being rude about his eyes and nose and hair and skin. 'Keshi laughs it off but I can tell it hurts him! Then today Guzzo told him he didn't deserve to be Tsuna's friend, that he's a nobody civilian foreigner and should go home and never come back. So I covered him in Conjured centipedes and I'm not sorry! He deserved it!"

Oh boy. That lines up with what the teachers told her and what they didn't tell her; there's prejudice against Mists –not as blatant as what there is against Lightnings but in some ways worse for being so subtle and insidious– so nobody really considers that maybe Natsuki's behaviour was provoked rather than just 'Mists being Mists'.

Never mind all the wonderfully racist implications of this particular clash; if the Guzzo boy is saying those things in the playground, it's because he's hearing them at home.

"Do you recognise that covering him in centipedes was a really mean thing to do?"

"Yes," Natsuki replies instantly and a touch scornfully, "that's why I did it."

"Do you recognise that it was much meaner than his insulting Takeshi, because you used Flames to do it and he's Latent, so he couldn't even recognise what you'd done, never mind retaliate in kind, as children aren't taught that Flames exist until they're taught to use them?"

"Yes," the twelve-year-old agrees warily, fidgeting in his seat.

"Do you recognise that if you'd told me or Tenth about the Takeshi being bullied we could have sorted it out properly with Guzzo's father much sooner?"

"He didn't want us to!"

"Natsuki, Takeshi's father has entrusted his care to us; that means it's our job –as adults– to deal with things like this, things you don't have the experience and authority to deal with. Takeshi didn't want to talk about it because it hurts and he thinks that if he ignores it, it will go away. But you know that isn't true, don't you? Pain needs to be recognised and dealt with to go away."

"Yes," the Mist agrees quietly.

"I recognise that you were trying to defend him," Xanna says gently, "but by doing so you have turned Giuseppe Guzzo into a victim as well, which makes solving the problem more difficult since he now feels he is justified in being mean."

Natsuki kicks his feet, eyes on the floor.

"I will deal with the racist name-calling; thank-you for telling me what the root issue was," Xanna continues. "Now, do you know why it is important to say sorry?"

"So people know you didn't mean it," Natsuki grumbles.

"No, that's not it. When you say 'I am sorry', what you are saying is, 'I recognise that the thing I did was a thing that hurt you. I am going to remember this and do my best to not hurt you like this ever again, because I want to be a better person than that.' Does that make sense?"

"So it's about me learning to be better, not about them forgiving me?"

"That's right; you don't need their forgiveness. Remember the Lord's Prayer, where it says, 'forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us'? It doesn't say, 'so others will forgive us,' does it? When we say sorry and mean it, God forgives us. It's his forgiveness that matters, not other people."

"So why do I have to forgive people when they say sorry?" Natsuki asks petulantly.

"Again, it's about you, not about them," Xanna explains patiently. "When you forgive somebody you are saying, 'I am letting go of this painful thing they did, so I am no longer carrying it around everywhere and letting it go on hurting me.' When somebody is mean to you it's like they have pressed a prickly branch into your hand: it really hurts and you don't want to let go because all the thorns are stuck in your skin and moving it hurts more. But if you have the courage to open your hand and pry the prickles out, it falls to the ground and then the wound can heal and the pain will go away. It does hurt more at first, and there may be a few prickles left behind that need to be teased out later with tweezers, but a few weeks on there won't even be scars left and you'll barely remember it happened. Of course if they're not sorry you'll make a point of avoiding that person so they can't do it again, but that's allowed. Letting people who've hurt you before do it again is stupid."

"So you want me to forgive people so what they did stops hurting me, not so they feel better," Natsuki summarises.

"Yes. Sometimes it's hard and you have to forgive people several times –I have to forgive Ninth a lot, even though he's dead, because he was very _very_ mean and I keep finding painful things I haven't forgiven him for– but forgiving somebody means being able to remember what happened without it hurting and that's very important. If it doesn't hurt, it can't control you. Deliberately not forgiving somebody gives them power over you, because you hurt and are reacting to that hurt rather than thinking clearly and getting on with enjoying your life without them."

"I don't want Guzzo to have power over me."

"Then you need to forgive him for being horrible to Takeshi, because that hurt you and you are still carrying that hurt around. Hurting him back didn't make it go away, did it?"

"No," the twelve-year-old admits grudgingly. "Do I have to tell him?"

"No, you don't; if he recognises that he was in the wrong and apologises you can tell him he's forgiven if you want, but you don't have to. Forgiving people is something you do for you, not for them."

"Okay." He looks much happier for having that cleared up. "I'll say sorry then. And I won't use Flames at school like that again, Mama, I'm sorry I got you in trouble like that." Perceptive little imp.

"I forgive you," Xanna tells him fondly, "now come and give me a hug, then tell Takeshi I want to talk to him." The next talk is probably going to be considerably more complicated than this one was, despite it probably involving less theology.


	7. Chapter 7

R&D don't manage to crack the pharmaceutical contraceptives problem until late two-thousand-and-two, by which point Antiope and Melanippe have been joined by Myrina and Xanna is pregnant again. This particular pregnancy is probably going to be a little more challenging than the previous three however, because the conception date just about lines up with Squalo and Xanxus getting back from a severely misclassified and fraught Varia mission that ran nerve-rackingly over-long and the threesome to celebrate their safe return. They definitely all used contraceptives, but as her husband rather grumpily points out, that doesn't really mean much anymore. Three baby girls are proof that condoms are not truly reliable where her husband is concerned; spermicides are one of those contraceptive measures that Sky Flames bypass completely, so they've never bothered with them at all.

There is also the complication that Pantera crashed their 'hey we all survived' party the following morning to check up on his best friends –her and Xanxus– and his favourite cousin –Squalo– which took a very sensual and sticky turn although it did not actually involve intercourse. Unfortunately for them however, with Flames 'sticky' can be enough; Sky Flames in particular can massively prolong the active lifespan of sperm cells and Xanxus is not exactly restrained in bed. Neither is she for that matter, and nobody's ever done a study on the effects of Lightning Flames on sperm lifetime.

Luss thinks she's expecting fraternal twins, which makes it twice as likely that at least one of them isn't her husband's. However twin births are already tricky enough that nobody wants to attempt an amniocentesis –not that it's possible yet anyway– so determining paternity will have to wait.

It's barely been a month, but she's having an awful time of it with acute nausea and vomiting almost right from the second week, so it got noticed right away; morning sickness is not supposed to start that early. If fact she's having such terrible morning sickness that Lussuria isn't entirely sure she's going to manage to carry to term, so they are all trying to carry on as normal. Some morning sickness is expected as she's had varying degrees of it in all her previous pregnancies, but this is not normal and quite severe in how it's affecting her and those around her.

The three men are dismally failing to go on as normal, which Xanxus and Squalo are getting away with because she's vomiting several times a day and having occasional fainting spells, so quite obviously needs constant supervision, plenty of plain food that she has a half a chance of keeping down and lots to drink so she doesn't dehydrate. Doting husband and hovering fellow Guardians therefore get leeway. Everybody else in the Iron Fort is under the impression that she's got a really nasty stomach bug, so are mainly being sympathetic from a safe distance. The Vittore and Tsuna's little posse in particular are making an effort to take care of her usual domestic things and spend time with her baby daughters so she can rest, which is very sweet of them.

Pantera is having considerably more difficulty being discreet, seeing as he doesn't have any reason to come across to the Iron Fort on a daily basis to visit the very sick Donna Vongola. It also turns out he's been dating someone else for nearly three months, which Xanna punched him for when he confessed it to her; she broke his nose and blacked both his eyes, so he's been going around looking like a Technicolor panda for the past ten days. He is supposed to _tell_ them this kind of thing! Silly tomcat!

"Of course, we _would_ finally work out the problem _after_ you got pregnant again," Lussuria mutters as she lays out the pages on the coffee table before pouring Xanna a cup of hibiscus tea and straightening the blankets covering her, "and you were right, honey: it is a Flame thing."

"How exactly?" Xanna asks, accepting the mug and sipping it gingerly. She reacts very strongly to certain smells at the moment, which is very awkward and has led to Maínomai moving into the Guardian suite alongside Pýř, so he can throw around Alterations like confetti and ensure the problem smells are swiftly and completely eradicated as she discovers them. Hibiscus tea is pretty much the only thing she can drink right now –there's something about plain bottled water that makes her stomach roil– and she is. Drinking. So. Fucking. Much. Of. It.

"Hardness, sweetie," the Sun says sympathetically, "which is probably also why your immune system is such an absolute beast: invaders get completely steamrolled by the combination of Hardened cell walls, Hardened internal cell systems and even Hardened chemical bonds, so they can't hijack your cells for reproduction, can't outfight your leucocytes and die very quickly. However this creates a problem with certain medications, as the point of pharmaceutical contraceptives is to fool your body's reproductive system into thinking it's already pregnant in order to suppress ovulation. Introduced hormones aren't Hardened like the home-grown ones are, so they get ignored or overruled. Same problem with common painkillers: the chemicals just can't function as they should."

"What a pile of shit," Xanxus growls from his armchair across from her, cradling his own mug of tea. Alcohol –any alcohol– is one of the scents that make her vomit, so her husband is currently avoiding it entirely. It's not helping his mood. Xanna had atypical reactions to common painkillers long before becoming Active, so she didn't notice a difference; Medical already resort to Mist-suggestion and markedly stronger chemicals to keep her sedated when necessary.

"Using Flame-absorbing fillers in the pills so that the Lightnings using them can 'charge' them before dosing themselves had a gratifyingly high success rate in the clinical trials," Lussuria continues, shuffling the papers, "by which I mean it was a ninety-nine point six percent success rate, once R&D worked out how to include an indicator in the fillers so the pill changes colour once sufficiently 'charged'. Lightning Division are really happy with the new painkillers –I had not realised how many Lightnings don't bother with taking painkillers at all due to ineffectiveness until you brought this to my attention sugar-lump, it's a travesty– and all the Active ladies in the clinical trials have signed up for a full prescription, which really says far too much about how widespread and under-addressed this issue was. Amusingly this also explains why your Lightnings are all fond of herbal teas: those actually do have a noticable affect since holding the mug as it cools provides a slight 'charge' to the tea."

"There's more to improving the lives of Lightnings than reforming training," Xanna agrees with a sigh. "Well, this is a start at least and it will be a relief to be able to plan any future pregnancies." She's twenty-seven and on her fourth pregnancy already; she's going to have to talk to her Division about retiring, there's no way she can keep up her Officer responsibilities while this ill and if it continues to term she'll probably have newborn twins to care for on top of her toddler and two older preschoolers. Definitely time to bite the bullet there.

"I'm moving in here to keep tabs on you, sweetie; multiple pregnancies carry higher complication rates and higher mortality rates for both mother and children so I want to keep a very close eye on how things develop," Lussuria says firmly. "My GMs can run the Division in my absence and Medical have themselves well in hand."

"I need to talk to my GM and Division Squad Leader about stepping down," Xanna agrees, steadily sipping her cooling tea. "I've barely been keeping up with the paperwork and maintaining Quality fitness levels as it is, and now with this as well? No chance."

"Will tell them," Xanxus grunts, downing his tea and getting up and walking across the room, leaning along the top of the couch and petting her hair. He's finding this very distressing and struggling with guilty feelings –all three men feel responsible for her current condition despite her being the one who dragged her husband to bed to begin with– and her telling them it's not their fault isn't helping. Because her being pregnant _is_ definitely their 'fault', even if the associated medical problems aren't; said associated medical problems are due to her body throwing a spectacular hissy fit over this pregnancy for some reason.

"Also could you please come up with a plausible reason for 'Tera to be up here every other day? Babysitting his goddaughter only works if he actually does it, visiting Delfina holds no water while she's at school and according to Emanuela the rumour mill is starting to pick up on how much time he's spending with you right now and harking back to that week-long threesome we had, with the implication that since I'm ill you and him might be cheating on your respective partners with each-other," Xanna tells him wryly. "Which you will get away with, being men, but I dislike being pitied and I would prefer his girlfriend dump him for things he's actually done." Like the fully consensual orgy said girlfriend wasn't invited to and potentially knocking up somebody else's wife, for instance. 'Tera is very definitely a tomcat; kitties are politer.

Her husband groans. "Fuck. Shit. Damn," he growls, gently untangling a lock of her hair from around his fingers. "Got a Flame Tech renewable energy idea I'm working on; cat can make himself useful." Xanxus doesn't deal well with problems he can't solve; anytime he's not working or hovering over her he's in his workshop attacking problems he _can_ solve, like new gun designs, new prosthetic designs, ways to improve mobile phone battery capacity and lifetime, a Flame-powered flight system involving electromagnets and ways to enhance solar panel efficiency. The latter is probably what he wants Pantera to help him with, possibly by recommending Superbi craftsmen with the skills he needs for the project. Or else he wants somebody to bounce infrastructure and implementation ideas off.

"Once your pregnancy's a bit more advanced I'll be able to get a better picture of what's going on," Lussuria says tightly as she tugs on her fringe, "which will open the way for mitigation strategies. Unfortunately however I can't do anything until we hit the foetal stage, which is another month off yet." She gnaws on her lower lip. "Even then I may not be able to do much; pregnancy's a delicate balancing act at the best of times."

"Pixie's health comes first," Xanxus says flatly. "Can have more kids. Only got one wife."

That is a very hard truth, but Xanna is selfish and wants to live too. She wants a long life with her husband and other children and isn't willing to give it up on the off-chance of maybe saving an unborn child she would never get to see. Not when it would mean abandoning all her loved ones.

"Agreed," she says quietly, "although I'm not getting an abortion unless it's absolutely necessary. If I miscarry, I miscarry, but I'm not doing it on purpose unless there's no other choice." Such as if they die or develop lethal deformities.

"Your body, pixie," Xanxus says quietly, bending closer to kiss her forehead. She has the best husband.

* * *

"You're our Officer."

"Sert–"

The green-haired twenty-three-year-old shakes his head sharply, sitting forwards in the armchair opposite her. "You are our Officer, Sprite." He's been Varia a year longer than she has, is a year younger than her husband and is easily more competent now than she was when she joined. "You, not Dread or Igor or Hade."

"Hade… pink hair, died last week?" She's still not good at names but she makes an effort to keep track of everybody in her Division, even the new ones.

"As I said," Sert says evenly, "you are our Officer."

Well that subtext is very nearly text in how clear it is… "Sert, _you_ are the person I want to be Officer. Dread is a fine GM but she's not strong or scary enough to lead the Division, Igor's strong but not sensible and you have come a very long way over the years."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

Sert is visibly struggling to process. "But… why me?"

"Sert, you are an excellent Lightning Squad Leader, you know everybody in the Division as well as their skills and mindsets, you are the one of the most experienced veteran Lightnings and you're still coming up with new and creative ways to use your Flames," Xanna says gently. "You've been doing more than half the Officer paperwork for me already; this is just formalising the arrangement."

Sert abruptly slides off his chair, scoots across the floor and drops his head into her lap; she strokes his hair soothingly.

"Really me?"

"Yes, really you. It's not like I'm going anywhere; if you need advice or reassurance you can always come and ask. Varia contracts are for life after all." The only distinction between a Varia assassin and a retired Varia assassin is that retired Varia assassins no longer take missions, and she's never done that anyway. Well, retired Varia assassins don't get basic pay either, but she has a generous stipend as a Vongola Guardian, another one as Donna and access to most of her husband's personal accounts, so it's not like she needs the extra money.

Sert takes a deep, slow breath, holds it for several seconds then lets it go in a long, shaky sigh. "Okay Officer. But you'll always be my Officer."

"Thank-you Sert," Xanna says gratefully. "I know you'll take good care of everybody and keep standards high." All the standards, not just the combat ones; emotional health standards are important too.

* * *

"Why are you keeping them, fairy?"

Of course it's Bel who asks the really awkward question. It's _always_ been Bel asking her the really awkward questions, from demanding she give him the 'sex and dating' talk at twelve –after reading up on the biology of it independently and getting Xanxus and Sekti to give him their versions of the same talk first, because multiple sources are important– through all the pointed and difficult questions about how she intends to bring up her daughters, generally asked at random hours of the night while she's breastfeeding, to the expectation that she will explain to him _right now_ why the fact that she is married to Xanxus but that they sometimes sleep with Squalo or Pantera –or both– either together or singly is not cheating. Not that she has intercourse with either Superbi when Xanxus isn't there, but there's a lot of cuddling and sleeping together wearing not very much, with occasional intimate contact.

Explaining poly relationship dynamics to a fourteen-year-old –even a genius fourteen-year-old– is not her idea of fun. Especially not at five o'clock in the morning while breastfeeding a colicky teething baby. Thankfully this latest awkward question has been asked at a reasonably civilised hour, if not exactly at a convenient moment. Because of course Belphegor would ask this while holding her hair out of her face as she throws up in a Conjured bucket.

"Why are you asking me this?" Xanna manages to mutter, gripping the edges of the bucket and trying to breathe as her body shakes in the aftermath of the full-body spasms.

There is a disgusted huff behind her. "You know one or both of your babies may not be Boss's," the Storm says flatly, voice soft and conversational, "which will be blatantly obvious when they are born, since neither the shark nor your cat look anything like him. Your relationship is not socially acceptable so drawing attention to it will harm you all, both personally and professionally, and cast doubt on the legitimacy of your other daughters. Boss will then have to deal with either accepting the children as his own and dealing with the blowback of people laughing at him for getting cheated on and not noticing, or handing them over to the Superbi family and then dealing with everybody bad-mouthing you and suggesting he divorce you for infidelity. And that would only be the beginning."

"Firstly, these are _my_ babies and anybody suggesting I give them up will be finding out first-hand why my Division still considers me to be Officer Quality even while pregnant and sick as a dog," Xanna hisses through gritted teeth. "Secondly, not one of the four of us gives a shit about the opinions of the Vongola Alliance in the matter of our ongoing relationship; anybody trying to use it to denigrate us will find out very quickly why Tyrant thinks Boss is coming along very well as Head of the Varia and that Vongola Tenth has no qualms ensuring younger and less narrow-minded individuals assume leadership of other families. Thirdly, you are overlooking an important data point."

"What is that, fairy?"

"I am a Vittore as well as the wife of a Vongola Don, and one of exactly two adult members of that family. I have every right to name any of my children as Vittore –so long as my husband and the Head of that family agrees– and raise them as such." She knows both Natuski and Naomi would be delighted to have a claim on any of her kids and would go on a campaign of terror against anybody who tries to suggest there may be anything amiss with doing so. Risa would happily take a stand too, being the only other adult at nineteen and currently really enjoying university.

"Like the Giglio Nero, with the Donna's daughter taking her name rather than being Vongola," Bel mutters, then chuckles, patting her back as her stomach finally settles properly. "Shishishishi… definitely a fairy; whenever you find yourself in trouble, you change reality so it no longer applies to you."

"We can even announce it in advance," Xanna mumbles, sitting up and accepting a cup of tepid tea to swill her mouth out with. "Less scrutiny that way, like with Yuni who is Giglio Nero and therefore not a Vongola Heir candidate despite being a Sky." Aria's firstborn is completely adorable, with bright teal hair and big blue eyes. Grandma Vongola is over the moon at having four adorable great-granddaughters; she's so determined to dote on them all it's giving her a new lease of life.

"Fairy."

"Yes, highness?"

"Why has the prince not been asked to be a godparent?"

"Bel, you're my fellow Guardian; you're already family. I didn't think I needed to appoint you specifically to look after any of my kids in case something happened to me or Boss." It's why Squalo, Pýř and Lussuria haven't been appointed either. Her husband is not wrong when he says she's Bel's mother in every way that actually matters.

"Fairy asked the snake." Viper looks like a five-year-old now, which they find rather awkward but means Bel is no longer calling them 'baby'.

"Now the Curse is broken Viper feels useless," Xanna says shortly, "as their brain chemistry matches their physical age, so it is seriously affecting their ability to behave in a consistently mature manner. Being older sibling and minder to Mela is something they can do, providing a last line of defence for all the children without over-taxing themselves." Viper does other things too, challenging and complex financial things, but only for a few hours at a time as they can't focus for longer without tiring, and ignoring their body's warning signs could potentially affect their ongoing neural development.

Bel accepts her reasons with a nod, using his Flames to disintegrate the bucket and its contents. "The prince had not realised he was neglecting his responsibilities. He will spend more time with his little sisters in future," he informs her, helping her back onto the couch.

"They all like being read to, so take your pick of the nursery bookshelf," Xanna suggests. It's a good starting point; all her little girls love stories.

"The prince will consider it. More tea, fairy?"

"Thank-you." That went reasonably smoothly, all things considered.

* * *

Antiope is four and understands that her mother is ill so doesn't have much energy for normal things, but frets because she's a child and unconsciously assumes she is the centre of the universe, so feels on some level that she has to do something so Mamma stops being ill. Xanna regularly assures her eldest that getting ill just happens sometimes, it isn't her fault, Lussuria has everything well in hand and then asks the now rather tall preschooler about what she's been up to lately.

"Lambo was being silly again, Mamma," Titi says today, tone long-suffering, "so I got 'Gari to take us outside and we stomped in puddles and played at being explorers in the garden." 'Gari being Magari, one of her veterans and her eldest daughter's devoted slave. It's not a Guardian bond –Pýř checked– he just adores Antiope that much.

"Did you stay warm, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Mamma, I wore all my waterproofs and 'Gari helped me make sure Lambo did too, then when we got back we changed our clothes and had hot chocolate." Her daughter grins, red eyes bright and impish. "I dipped orange segments in mine and Lambo had grapes."

"It sounds like you had lots of fun, birdie," Xanna says warmly, "come give your mamma a hug."

Titi kneels up on the couch and hugs her very carefully, making sure to wrap small, strong arms around Xanna's ribcage rather than her almost constantly sore abdomen. "Do you feel better now Mamma?"

"I always feel better after hearing about what you've been up to and getting a hug," Xanna assures her eldest. "Now I heard there were going to be stories in the nursery this afternoon…" she trails off leadingly.

Titi looks torn. "Can I stay for a bit?"

"Of course you can, darling; I'm always very happy to spend time with you, even when I haven't got much energy," Xanna says firmly. "You could get your embroidery out and keep me company." Repeated pregnancies have meant having to spend a lot of time sitting down, so she's picked up a few more sedentary hobbies, like needlework and patchwork. Both offer remarkable scope for experimental thought-exercises with Mist Flames, so it's creative as well as productive and soothing.

Antiope eagerly drags her little sewing bag out from the sideboard and climbs onto a footstool, sitting cross-legged on it and frowning intently as she threads her needle with a short length of wool, then starts meticulously back-stitching her way along the coloured line drawn on the canvas. The picture is one her daughter drew herself and Xanna transferred to tapestry canvas using the same felt-tip pens used in the original picture, then dug around in her wool box for yarn the right colour for Titi to stitch it with. It's the third such project –the first one was done when her precocious baby was only two and a half– and the previous two are hung in pride of place on the nursery walls, properly framed along with one of Mela's more intricate collages.

Little Myrina is still in the messy finger-painting phase, but Xanna had Housekeeping screw a massive sheet of Perspex to one of the nursery walls so that all her children's artwork can be stuck up without damaging the wallpaper. It usually takes a few weeks to fill the entire screen, by which point the kids have lost interest in the older work so it can be discreetly thrown out and replaced with new things. Of course every now and then they produce something really beautiful, which gets scrapbooked. Or, as with the tapestries and Melanippe's amazing collage of the meadow, gets framed.

Parenting is like getting a mystery seedling from a friend who has never gardened before: they don't know what it is, you don't know what it is and all you can do is nurture it, protect it, pay close attention to it so you don't accidentally kill it and as it grows, you start to find out what –or rather who– you have grown. Then all that it left to do is tend and encourage them until they are fully grown.

A willow will never be a sunflower; a rose will never be an apple tree. Comparing them is not helpful; they are what they are and each are beautiful on their own merits.

The door slams open, revealing a five-year-old with riotously curly hair who hurtles into the room and dives under the coffee table, sliding on his stomach until he collides with Xanna's feet on the other side. "Lambo the magnificent is here!" He announces, somewhat superfluously.

Antiope ignores him completely, being focused on her embroidery.

"Hello Lambo," Xanna says calmly, looking up from the hexagons she is stitching together to smile at him. "We're having quiet time."

Lambo nods, gets to his feet and hurries back over to the door so he can shut it. Quietly. "Can I do quiet things too?" he asks in a loud whisper.

"Of course you can; the basket on the shelf over there has pens and paper in, if you want to draw, and there are jigsaw puzzles in the cupboard underneath," Xanna says easily. Lambo is very well behaved once he knows the rules, despite being easily excited and prone to hyperactivity when over-stimulated.

"I will draw for Mamma," Lambo says firmly, side-eyeing her to see how she feels about him claiming her.

"That would be lovely, Lambo." She doesn't mind; she practically is his mother now, what with how he ended up in her care. It was… dramatic.

It turns out the Bovino Family have been experimenting with time travel for nearly twenty years now and have been able to send living beings through time for well over fifteen years, but only perfected the means of getting people _back_ two years ago. Lambo is a Bovino, and his family apparently had a rather lax attitude to child safety because the first thing they did upon ensuring that they could get people back was to try their short-term time travel device –called The Ten Year Bazooka– on their children, to find out about future scientific advancement and see what those children would grow up to be like.

Which might possibly have been less of a fiasco had then-newly-four-year-old Lambo not been a Varia mook by the age of fourteen; teenage Lambo had instantly knocked out all the scientists, grabbed the bazooka and ammunition, escaped the building and run for a pay phone, managing to call the Varia with a longstanding emergency code before his five minute time limit ran out. The Varia team scrambled to his location found a preschooler eating grapes, a very odd-looking weapon and a scribbled note. Talking to little Lambo about the note led them to decide to shoot the boy again, which resulted in Teenage Lambo giving a quick and detailed summary of what exactly was going on, with a plea that Tenth confiscate _all_ the research and records, then arrange proper care for his younger self.

Time travel is not a normal Varia hazard, but Lambo having grown up to be Quality gave the Varia a degree of leeway: Lambo is still Lambo after all, and once a Varia assassin, always a Varia assassin. So Xanxus confiscated _all_ the Bovino's time-travel research –as requested– on the basis of them having used it against a member of the Varia, took Lambo in as his foster-child, locked up the Ten-Year Bazooka and all the associated ammunition with a Sky Seal then set an R&D team to reading every last scrap of paperwork. The whole process has likely generated even more paperwork, if mostly as summaries and 'easy reading' versions for her husband to look over later.

He also set Legal on the Bovino –the charge being 'child endangerment', which will probably stick– and a number of more subtle Varia Mists to rooting out all the details that the scientists never actually wrote down.

There being over two decades of notes, reading them all is still ongoing almost eighteen months later; Lambo however has settled in well and adores Antiope, despite being almost a full year older than her. Possibly because on their first meeting Lambo declared himself four, born on the twenty-eighth of May, so older than then-three-year-old Antiope, which the girl countered by stating that _she_ was born on May the tenth, so _she_ is in change because she was born _first_. Lambo was convinced and is now a devoted follower.

Child-logic is wonderful. Really, truly wonderful.

Xanna continues her patchworking as her daughter embroiders and her newest foster-son sprawls on the floor, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he concentrates on his drawing. It's restful and pleasant and she will hopefully not throw up again for a while longer.

* * *

Feeling queasy, exhausted and generally emotional all the time is intensely annoying, which makes the wibbly emotional feeling worse as she knows she's being irrational about this but knowing that doesn't help. Xanna's solution to the internal emotional drama is to sit on people, which helps.

It sounds ridiculous, but going about her day leaning into someone and sitting in their lap while on the couch shuts up the little internal voice that whimpers about feeling unloved and wanting comfort. Squalo is taking his status as 'favoured cuddle toy' with good humour, although he's generally happy to be 'rescued' by the time her husband finishes his work for the day and comes to take over. In fact Squalo's taken to having paperwork brought over so he can 'at least get _some_ work done' while he's with her, not that he gets much done since most of her day revolves around the children, little Myrina in particular, who takes being ignored as a personal challenge.

So by the time a member of staff –her name is Viola– arrives at the sitting room door to announce guests around eleven, Squalo has given up on his paperwork and is telling the black-haired, blue-eyed toddler cuddling him a rambling made-up story about a hippo, punctuated by answering Mela's questions about animals, plants, behaviours and everything else under the sun as the red-eyed three-year-old leans on his legs and 'walks' her toy horse all over him.

Xanna is sat sideways along the couch with her back against Squalo's shoulder and his arm around her waist, writing letters to friends who are out of the country or now living too far away to visit regularly. Lambo is at 'preschool Lightning classes' –he's not Active yet but the energetic socialisation is good for him– and Titi is having her fortnightly day out with her godmother, so isn't here either. All the older kids are at school, so it's relatively quiet. Relatively; neither Squalo nor Mela are quiet people, although with Squalo the issue is volume and with Mela it's that she has so much she wants to talk about.

"Pantera Superbi and a Miss Lanza to see you, Donna Xanna," Viola says, smiling as her eyes dart to the toddler clinging to the Vongola Rain Guardian's neck. Squalo ignores her; he's thoroughly desensitised to toddler-induced embarrassment after four years of continuous exposure, although Xanxus is never going to let the Rain forget about how long it took to give up on dignity and start wearing his long hair in a bun whenever doing anything around babies, so it didn't get pulled, knotted or chewed on. Squalo never spent much time with the smallest Vittore when they were this age, having lots of other things on his plate back then, but he always has time for her daughters.

Xanna was wearing her hair in braids from her first day nursing and has almost given up on earrings altogether; then again, she had considerably more experience of toddlers than Squalo did four years ago.

But Pantera's brought somebody to see them? Somebody not his family? That implies it's his lady-love. Well, clearly she hasn't dumped him yet for his idiotic thoughtlessness. 'Tera's usually so incredibly poised and deliberate about everything he does that his occasional slip-ups are really very awkward and embarrassing indeed.

"Show them in, please," Xanna says, setting her writing aside on the coffee table and getting to her feet so she can greet her friend and his guest properly.

When they walk in Xanna gets a glimpse of a tall, dark woman with keen eyes and a kind smile next to 'Tera, but the accompanying whiff of sickly chemical florals and ethanol makes her stomach roil and she turns tail and sprints to the bathroom, vaguely aware of Squalo swearing behind her.

She's bent over the toilet bowl, shivering and gagging at the perfume smell sticking stubbornly to the back of her throat despite her stomach being violently emptied when firm, dry hands smooth loose strands of hair back off her skin and rub her back soothingly, a fine wisp of Flame soothing her spasming muscles and calming her roiling gut.

"Hey, what was it this time?" Squalo asks, tone flat yet sympathetic as he kneels beside her.

"Perfume," Xanna manages between retches, eyes closed and skin sticky with cold sweat.

"Shit. Going to have to get Maínomai in; I can stop you smelling it but I can't actually make it go away," Squalo mutters, still rubbing her back and arms comfortingly. "Alteration's not my thing; better at Binding and Conjuration." Squalo's a Mist-tertiary, but he gets a lot out of it. Mostly combat-relevant things though.

"Can still taste it in my throat," she mumbles, trying not to start gagging again. She hasn't got anything in her stomach anymore, it won't help.

Her fellow Guardian presses a soft kiss to the back of her neck. "Can try an Enchantment to neutralise it, see if we can knock it loose," he offers.

Enchantments are brute force applications of Mist Flames, making things happen despite not understanding the mechanics. "Would probably work," Xanna agrees thinly, "so long as you make sure to drag it _out_ of my lungs, not just unstick it."

Squalo coils a hand around her throat, the other resting against her sternum as he leans into her back. "You, give me a moment," he mutters into her shoulder, his Flames twisting and fluttering under her skin.

Xanna breathes steadily, then wheezes when he abruptly pokes her in the solar plexus. "Ow," she manages a few seconds later, then takes another breath. "It's gone though; all I can smell now is sweat and vomit."

"Yeah that's so much better," the Rain agrees dryly, shifting himself around and tilting her upper body back so she's sitting on her heels. "Here, swill your mouth out." It's warm tap water, insipid and with a mineral tang that's not really very pleasant at all, but it's better than nothing.

She swills, spits and repeats, then climbs to her feet and lets Squalo take a warm flannel to her face to wipe the sweat away. Throwing up is a full-body experience and really tiring, even for somebody in peak physical fitness. Xanna's no longer quite that fit, but muscle tone doesn't just vanish the moment you drastically reduce your exercise commitments. Her struggle to keep enough food down isn't helping her there, although she is at least managing to put on a little weight. Probably not enough, going by Luss's fretting, but something is better than nothing.

"Here, sit down you," Squalo says shortly, steering her over to the stool in front of the sink then leaning back to flush the toilet. "Maínomai keeps an eye on you so he's probably showed up by now; I'll go tell him what the problem was while you settle."

"Order me more tea and something bland?"

"I'll order you hibiscus tea and crackers," he agrees long-sufferingly, "like I do every time this happens."

"Just because you and crow manage without words doesn't mean I shouldn't verbalise," Xanna grumbles, flapping a hand at his midsection.

Squalo bends down and quickly hugs her around the shoulders. "You always ask. It's nice," he admits, kissing her cheek before letting himself out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Well, as first meetings go it can't really get much worse than this. However the reaction she just had is classic pregnancy behaviour, so that cat may well be out of the bag.

* * *

When Xanna returns to the sitting room her little apple has climbed proprietorially into her godfather's lap, charming the Lanza sitting next to them on the couch with her happy and frequently idiosyncratic babble, Myrina has been scooped up by Maínomai –her own godfather– who is swaying and singing her a nonsense song in an unfamiliar language and Squalo is fiddling with the furniture, having dragged the loveseat over to the coffee table from by the window and trying to pick an angle he's happy with.

"Tea's here," he says, shifting the coffee table with his foot –taking care not to jar the tea tray– and pushing the loveseat back a little further. "I fetched a blanket, come sit down, you."

Xanna sits on the loveseat, letting him wrap the blanket around her and leaning into him. She does chill easily and with her body already kicking up a stink about so many other things, adding a chill to the problem is not going to do her any good.

"Very snug," 'Tera says slyly. Squalo glares at him.

"My fellow Guardian, my family, my friend," the younger man says sharply, "and my Sky wants her properly taken care of."

"Jealousy is unbecoming, kitty-cat," Xanna adds, tone sweet and words chosen specially to sting. The Superbi Heir cringes.

"Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean it like it sounded."

"Bad word!" Mela declares brightly from Pantera's lap, giggling as he groans and covers his face with a hand.

"What is it about Sprite that you always put your foot in your mouth at exactly the worst possible moment?" Squalo demands incredulously.

"I have an excuse but it's not a proper reason," 'Tera admits ruefully. "The proper reason is that I am an overly-possessive idiot. The excuse is that Xanna and I have a Flame-bond."

"Oh, like me and Pýř," Maínomai interjects, wandering closer with Myrina snoring gently into his shoulder. "If either of us were a Sky it would be a Guardian bond, but we aren't so it isn't. Still just as strong though."

"You're right, it's a crappy excuse," Squalo agrees sourly. "How long?"

"Always, I think," Xanna admits, mind darting over her current feelings for 'Tera and how they compare to how she used to feel about Xanxus before she started seeing him as someone she could have a truly equal relationship with, "within an hour of meeting him, at most." It's that feeling of clicking perfectly with somebody, of similar priorities and opinions and goals. He's a kindred spirit and she really would have been happy marrying him, but she's no less happy being married to Xanxus and having 'Tera as their best friend.

"So what? I've known her longer than you have and we're Guardians together," Squalo grumbles. "Get over yourself."

Xanna leans into the grumpy swordsman and pokes him in the ribs. "Chill," she says lightly. "He's already admitted to being an idiot."

"So what does this kind of bond entail?" the Lanza on the couch asks, visibly making an effort to withhold judgement for the time being. Mela loses interest in the adult conversation, slides off 'Tera's lap and starts playing with her horse under the coffee table, narrating quietly as she does so.

"Being best friends really," Maínomai says easily, sitting down in the vacant armchair and shifting his grip on the sleeping toddler in his arms; "the kind of best friends that act like siblings or lovers despite not being, casually occupying the same space and not really understanding why everybody else thinks that's a bit weird. It's hard to explain, but saying it's like a Guardian bond comes close, although it's balanced rather than the Sky leading and everybody else following."

"Do we really follow Xanxus?" Xanna asks musingly. "I mean, it's not like we don't disagree with him regularly."

"Or heckle," Squalo agrees, grinning toothily. "Or get in his face when he's being Dumb."

"You'd both follow him to the ends of the earth and he wouldn't even need to ask," Pantera says dryly, "and you know it."

"Pýř would too," Maínomai agrees cheerfully, "although he'd grumble a lot and insist on knowing what the plan was."

"I wouldn't follow you to the ends of the earth, 'Tera," Xanna says bluntly, "but if you wanted to go I'd help you pack and set things up so everybody was well looked-after while you were away. And I'd expect you to write and call regularly while you were away and send Varia after you in you didn't."

"Sounds about right," the Superbi Heir admits, ducking his head. "If I thought it was a bad idea I'd tell you so and try to get Xanxus to talk you out of it, but if you insisted I'd help you set things up and make suggestion for people to take along." He smiles wryly, "these days I know better than to insult your agency."

"Ingrained sexism is a terrible trial for everybody," Xanna agrees sweetly. "You're doing so much better now."

"Why thank-you dear, I try."

"See what I mean?" Maínomai says impishly.

"Incessant flirting?" the Lanza inquires, tone desert dry.

"I'm not flirting," Xanna says firmly, "I'm teasing my friend. Flirting implies sexual interest and the intent to solicit reciprocal sexual interest. I only flirt with my husband and when I do it's usually very blatant; he's about a thousand times flirtier than I am and even Squalo flirts more than I do."

She's asexual, which makes flirting almost impossible as she's not spontaneously sexually attracted to anybody, so she's never been interested in soliciting reciprocity. She only starts getting interested in sex if already engaged in heavy petting and sensual contact, at which point it's less flirting and more making sure she and her partner are on the same page. Her approach to soliciting physical affection is to lean into somebody or ask them to hug her, or go on her tiptoes with her husband so he knows she wants a kiss. Or outright demand a kiss. Talking is just talking, unless the topic of conversation is actually sexual and explicit, and that is different again to gossiping with Luss; while not adverse to sex, Xanna's not really interested in it for its own sake. It's the people, not the act.

"Squalo flirts?" Pantera looks delighted. "With whom?"

Squalo mostly flirts with her husband, but she's not going to say that in front of a relative stranger. "Alessia Scarlatti's taken a shine to him," she says slyly, "so she flirts a little and he flirts back. It's not serious but they're both having fun." Alessia's Varia now, going by Sumu and already a Squad Leader in Cloud Division, but Squalo's not going to start anything with her due to the power imbalance; he is after all running the Varia for Xanxus. The Varia has Rules there; nothing wrong with a little flirting though.

"Tsuna's Cloud Guardian? Really?"

"Stand-in Cloud Guardian," Xanna corrects. "Tsuna's actual Cloud Guardian is Latent and nine." Mochi, as everybody calls Paloma, is the very youngest of the Vittore family and half-sibling to Damiano, who is twelve, also a Cloud, Active and fairly autistic. Being an Active Cloud prompts people to give him lots of space –and they don't expect him to even try to meet their social standards– which amusingly means he's actually quite comfortable in school, has several friends and is cheerfully open about wanting to play the flute professionally in a proper orchestra when he's older.

Mochi is probably also a bit autistic, although not officially diagnosed because the symptoms can look different in girls and the medical establishment hasn't quite caught up yet. Tsuna is very attuned to her and offers as much support for his youngest Guardian as he can, as do the members of Housekeeping who raised her and the rest of the Vittore. She's the family baby after all.

Tsuna has a full complement of Guardians now: the massive, affable and firmly non-violent Mauro is his Sun and the intellectual, enthusiastic and bespectacled Luisa is his Lightning. What with having four Vittore as Guardians it's looking increasingly likely that Tsuna's going to take on the name once he's grown, especially since he's Sky to the technical family head and currently crushing very hard on Naomi. Which is cute and hilarious considering Naomi is three years older than him and has recently decided that gender distinctions are for other people; their current reply to the –rude and insensitive– 'are you a boy or a girl' question is 'no'.

Naomi identifies as non-binary, but likes plural pronouns because in Italian the second person plural is a polite form –if not the most polite form– which obscures the matter further. Otherwise female pronouns are fine, since the 'Lei' form –third person singular feminine– is the most polite form of address that exists in Italian. There have been Varia jokes that Naomi doesn't need gender; they have _class_.

"He decided what he's doing with himself yet?" Pantera asks curiously, abandoning the prospect of teasing in favour of asking after the youngest Active Vongola Sky.

"Barely started his first year of high school, 'Tera," Xanna points out, accepting a cup of tea from Squalo and sipping it. "He's got time." Tsuna's taking social track, which involves fewer of the intellectual subjects which he struggles with. He's very sensitive, perceptive and practical, but he's never going to be a multidisciplinary technical and theoretical genius the way Xanxus is.

"CEDEF, perhaps?" the Lanza lady murmurs.

"I'm sorry, what _is_ your name?" Xanna asks, deciding that she can't just let the confusion continue.

"I didn't introduce you," 'Tera groans, tilting his head back, "I am so sorry Xanna; this is Immacolata Lanza."

"Immacolata," Xanna repeats, "and no, I don't think Tsuna's interested in the CEDEF. He may end up heading a House, but I think he's far more likely to join the Vittore in settling nearby and expanding the Vongola's area of influence." Tsuna has confided to her that he wants to teach, not in a formal school setting but something like sports coaching or music or reading lessons for small children. It's a wonderful idea and she's all for it; if he wants to be mostly civilian then there's no reason why he can't be.

He'd make an excellent Flame-tutor, for that matter, and being officially Vongola means he's not bound by family secrecy and could teach Lightnings too. An additional school further east might also tempt the Allies in closer, strengthening ties and improving the inside line of communication.

"He's a sweet kid," Pantera agrees fondly.

"Nothing like you then," Immacolata says absently, picking up her own drink.

Squalo snorts. 'Tera catches up a split-second later and pouts, lower lip protruding as he widens his eyes woefully. "I am sweet!"

"When you want to be," Xanna agrees mildly, letting Squalo refill her cup; "which is not very often and usually when you want something."

Maínomai snorts very quietly, ducking his head forwards to hide his smile behind his chin-length hair.

"Cat," Squalo says dryly.

The Superbi Heir huffs, folding his arms sulkily. "Fine, be that way."

Mela chooses this moment to launch herself out from under the coffee table at her godfather, which creates a pause in conversation as Pantera starts ticking the three-year-old, then chases her around the room after she manages to squirm out of his lap. The high-pitched squeals are very piercing, if cute.

"Donna Xanna, I've been hearing all over about your illness," Immacolata says eventually, eyes darting from where 'Tera is tossing a happily screaming Mela into the air and back to her and Squalo in the loveseat, "but you're not actually ill in the conventional sense, are you?"

She had suspected her abrupt reaction to her guest's perfume might have given the game away. "No, I am not," she admits, "but we are keeping the story as it is, considering how poor my health has been so far. The medics who have examined me are concerned how much else might go wrong from such a poor beginning and are not confident I will carry to term."

Immacolata's grimace is deeply sympathetic. "I understand. I will not mention it."

"Thank-you," Xanna says gratefully. "How long have you been seeing Pantera?"

"Just since the summer," the other woman says, going along with the change of subject. "I've not been introduced to any of his other relatives yet."

"Wants to spare you the inquisition," Squalo says dryly. "We're a big family and we all know each-other; plus he's the Heir, so everybody's invested."

"I suspect I only avoided the inquisition because I knew a lot of Superbi before dating him and was living at the Varia," Xanna admits ruefully. "And there were a suspicious number of relatives 'just stopping by' when I visited him in the first few months." Although she'd dated Superbi before 'Tera, so the local branches of the family were likely able to provide a summary of her character for the out-of-towners. Xanna's not sure what Falena and Colubro may have said, but it was probably positive. Hopefully not too embarrassing.

"You don't count?" That is a very nuanced raised eyebrow.

Squalo snorts. "Hey, he's my favourite cousin and a total ass; if he can win you over, good for him. He's got a type and you fit."

"Type?" Immacolata asks; Xanna can't quite put her finger on the undercurrents there.

Her fellow Guardian smirks toothily. "Gorgeous, Electric, intelligent, sense of humour, far too good for him," he says, voice loud enough that 'Tera can't miss it, "and always calls him out on his bullshit."

"What a lovely compliment," Xanna says cheerfully, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "Pour me more tea, please?" So Immacolata is a Lightning? Clearly Latent, but Squalo's got incredibly sharp Flame-senses. Her husband also hits at least four of those criteria, which is amusing.

Squalo rolls his eyes but does so.

* * *

"Wife?"

"Hm?"

"Aria wants to give Tsuna a ring set." Meaning clearly a set of Flame focuses.

"Why?"

"Like the Vongola rings, to help stabilise the world."

"Truth," Xanna agrees. "They won't hurt him?"

"Says he may get some odd dreams, but that's all," her husband assures her, pulling back the sheets so they can get into bed. "Feels massively indebted to you over the Arcobaleno thing, so wouldn't do anything that might hurt people you care about."

That is also true. "So this is something that will help Tsuna grow," she deduces, "and enable him to protect himself better." Tsuna's weapon of choice is a fountain pen; not something any civilian would think to confiscate and very good for stabbing people. Oh, and he can write with it, although Xanxus had to make it specifically from extra-hard Flame-conductive metal so it wouldn't melt or bend and then had to find ways to protect the ink inside it so it wouldn't evaporate or cause other issues after being exposed to high levels of heat. The pen's not Tsuna's only weapon but it's his favourite one; he dislikes his gloves as they make him look like he's trying to be First and going bare-handed is less effective as his Flames are not naturally destructive like Xanxus's are.

"So yes?"

"She can offer them to him," Xanna agrees; "up to him though." Rings mean more people in the mafia will look to him; mean he will have greater control over his Flames and more power at his disposal. Tsuna may not want that.

"True." Xanxus looks satisfied with her choice. "Says they're called the Mare Rings."

"Rainbow, sea, clam; what a funny theme for things involving multicoloured fire," Xanna mutters, shaking her head; well 'rainbow' sort-of fits due to the colours, but clam? Seriously?

Giotto originally called his family-centred little band the Alliata, because they were 'allied to the people', but changed the name to 'Vongola' upon being given the Vongola Rings by Aria's ancestor Sepira. Or was it Sappira, Sephira, or Zephyra? Spelling was rather random in those early journals of Lampo's. It could even have been Zafira or Sapphira; half of those names mean 'sapphire' though.

The descendents of First's full-siblings still carry the Alliata name, but they are probably the only ones who remember why. It came as a surprise to her to find that titbit in the old journals.

"Pixie?"

"Yes, crow?"

"Kisses?" Her husband looks like he can't quite decide whether it's more considerate of him to try and give her something more enjoyable to focus on than her ongoing terrible health or to just let her rest.

"I would very much like to be kissed," Xanna decides, "but not on the mouth, please? The toothpaste taste makes me gag right now and the mouthwash is just as bad." She has to just use water and a bit of baking soda, which is unpleasant but at least doesn't make her want to throw up. Vomiting because her husband tastes like minty freshness is an experience she'd rather avoid.

"Will manage," Xanxus assures her, leaning closer and smiling as he strokes the side of her face, sliding his fingers under her chin.

* * *

Lussuria 'taking a look' at her body's inner workings is done at the beginning of December, since it takes about eight weeks for an embryo to become a foetus and there isn't really anything to detect with an ultrasound until then. Her husband is already confident it's a multiple pregnancy –he says he can sense two distinct variations inside her– but Xanna knows better than to assume that there being two now means there's still going to be two when she gives birth. Chimerism and 'vanishing twin syndrome' both exist.

Her examination however does not involve ultrasound, since Mist Flames let you see in far more detail than that. First though Lussuria has to finish poking and prodding her and taking lots of notes.

"Morning sickness is technically hormonal, although why it happens is something nobody really agrees on," the Sun chatters absently, one hand splayed on Xanna's lower back and the other scribbling illegibly on a notepad. "Some people think it's to protect the developing embryo and foetus from toxins, others think it's to protect the mother since pregnancy reduces immune effectiveness so food poisoning and parasitical infections are less likely to get picked up on then. Whatever the reason, it's hormonally induced. And your hormones are looking rather wilder than they were in your previous pregnancies, sugar-lump."

"Could it be because there's more than one foetus?" Xanna asks. Twins are not something she is aware of being a feature of her family history, but her memories are still shit and random happenstance is a thing.

"Very possibly, as more than one foetus may well mean more than one placenta and it's the placenta producing some of these hormones," Luss replies. "I'll have a look for that now; got to be much more careful for this next bit…" His voice trails off.

Xanna waits patiently.

"Huh," the Sun says eventually, tone bemused. "Yes, that could do it. Honey, it's not twins."

"What's wrong then?"

"Nothing's wrong, sweetie; you're expecting _triplets_ , not twins."

Xanna palms her face. "Great, extra variables." Are _any_ of them her husband's?

Lussuria side-eyes her. "We could always play twenty questions and you tell me when I'm wrong," he points out, clearly having no trouble whatsoever deciphering the subtext of her complaint.

She doesn't like doing that; there's a reason she dislikes letting people speculate about the sex of her unborn children and it's that when she was starting to show with Antiope some gossip or other was twittering about 'how wonderful than Tenth is having a son' and she'd had to bite down on pointing out the lie. She did tell her husband about that when she became pregnant the second time, so Xanxus summarily banned gender-based speculation within her hearing. Melanippe being a girl was therefore a delightful surprise and so was Myrina.

Triplets are however surprising enough as it is and more data might be better. She might even learn how she managed to conceive triplets in the first place; releasing three egg-cells at once is rare enough to suspect Flames at work and identical twins are also fairly unusual, especially in younger mothers. Xanna sighs.

"This time then, for strictly medical reasons."

"Okay then, let's start with the obvious: you're pregnant with triplets."

"Truth."

"Your husband fathered all of your babies."

"Lie."

"Your husband fathered none of your babies."

"Lie."

"Your husband fathered two of your babies."

Xanna pauses. "True-ish? That feels… complicated." There's a sense of 'close but no cigar' there that she's had a few times before; generally in situations where a person could say 'technically true, but…'

"We'll come back to that then. One of the unborn is Squalo's child."

"Truth."

"Two of the unborn are Squalo's."

"Lie."

"Well that's nice and clear. None of the unborn are Pantera's child."

"Lie."

"Well, that's interesting when there are definitely only three of them…" Lussuria trails off, tapping his lips with his pen.

"Could one of them be a chimera?" Xanna asks. "A mix of two fathers?" Flames do odd things to biology, as the Vittore's medical files over the years have proved; some sort of chimera with three parents that her body is trying to purge would explain much. Her husband only being able to sense two 'distinct presences' is more likely to be due to two of the foetuses having the same Flame-type, as it's still early days and they're barely there at all.

"I don't know honey," the Sun admits. "Let's find out: none of the babies are chimeras."

"True." And now she is all out of ideas. At least this means it's somewhat less likely that her third baby is already dead or going to die shortly.

"Well that doesn't really help sort out the numbers issue, does it," Lussuria huffs.

Xanna has a very odd thought. It is very unlikely but so are triplets. "Luss?"

"Yes cupcake?"

"Flames can make weird improbable biology happen, right?"

"Yes, honey, it can," the Sun agrees warily.

"So, could one of my babies _not_ be technically mine? I mean, they've come up with a way to replace the nucleus of egg cells in the lab, haven't they? So I was thinking that if two sperm cells entered an egg nucleus at the same time and fused with each-other rather than with the egg DNA…" she trails off. How do egg cells work again? Two divisions into four cells, one egg, two or three extras discarded in two steps? That makes it more plausible and even if both ovaries ovulated, it could explain why she has three different babies rather than one different and two identical.

Luss frowns. "I mean, theoretically yes?" he says distantly, twirling his pen between his fingers. So you think this might be why you got the funny answer earlier; genetically speaking you and Boss are splitting maternal inheritance in one of the children, with your mitochondrial inheritance, his nuclear DNA and one of the two Superbi providing the other half of the nuclear DNA."

"Truth." Well. Eek. So much for 'theoretically'.

"Well that could _definitely_ explain why you're having such a rough time of it; if one of the babies isn't even half yours then your body's much likelier to try and get rid of it and the placenta will have to make more of an effort to get your immune system to chill." Lussuria's face is intent, not looking at her but at some point in the middle distance. "Honey, I'm prescribing Flame transfusions from Boss; extra Harmony in your system should hopefully make your body less twitchy about the babies, so in turn improve your health. It's likely the closeness of Boss's bond with you that's kept a miscarriage at bay thus far, so having him actively and consciously Harmonising with you several times a day should settle things further." The Sun pauses. "I'd like to ask a few more questions, please."

"Go for it."

"One of the foetuses is genetically your and Boss's."

"Truth."

"One of the foetuses is genetically Boss's and the Captain's."

"Lie."

Lussuria suddenly looks very interested. "One of the foetuses is genetically yours and Squ-chan's."

"Truth," and oh, that's going to take some getting used to. Her and Squalo having a baby together, eek. Well at least he's twenty-two now…

"The third baby is genetically Boss's and Pantera's then."

"Truth." Xanna suddenly has an irresistible urge to giggle. She's pregnant thrice over and one of them is only hers by technicality; does this make 'Tera her husband's mistress or the other way around?

"Honey, are you okay there?" Luss is smiling but he looks a little concerned; possibly due to the fact she's bent double and hiccupping with laughter.

"F-f-fine," she eventually manages, "I just," gasp, hiccup, giggle, "of Xan and 'Tera," gasp, "which one's the mistress?"

Lussuria tries and fails to hide his gleeful smile behind a hand. "Honey, your priorities," he scolds, tone light and teasing.

"No really! Mafia Law says the mistress gives up the child to the father; who gets this one?"

The Sun starts laughing, a slow chuckle that rows rapidly into a deep belly laugh nothing like his usual gleeful giggle.

"I think," Lussuria wheezes after almost a quarter of an hour of the two of them setting each-other off into fresh fits of laughter, "that Boss may decide to rework those laws a bit. In light of the circumstances."

Xanna can't wait to see how that goes down, she really can't.

* * *

Extra Harmony does help stabilise her condition and enable her to start putting on weight properly, but Xanna still feels queasy and tired and scales back her social commitments accordingly. She therefore does not attend the winter solstice ball alongside her husband, but spends the early evening with her kids and goes to bed early, Pýř abandoning the party to keep her company so she can sleep. That is probably half excuse to escape the crush and half genuine concern, so Xanna is very grateful. He could avoid the party without napping next to her after all.

She does however attend the music recital put on by the Academy on December twenty-third, as a good number of her kids are playing in it. There's Falco, fourteen years old and already getting offers from the Sicilian Youth Orchestra, Takeshi who plays trombone pretty well for somebody who divides his time between music and athletics –with particular focus on the throwing sports like shot put and javelin– Rossana who is shorter than her double bass but undeterred by the challenge, Delfina whose dexterity and precision at the piano is only limited by the size of her hands, Damiano who is truly excellent on the flute and Trina, who can do amazing things with a drum and loves every last instrument in the percussion section despite being only eleven and not quite tall enough to play everything effectively. That's what boxes are for, apparently.

The funniest part of the concert is listening to people assume Falco is Delfina's older brother, because both are white-haired and green-eyed with sharp cheekbones and identical focused frowns when concentrating. According to Squalo being pale and musical is a Soave family thing, which despite him and Delfina being only fourth cousins to Falco –they did manage to finally hunt down the exact family tree details there– has resulted in remarkably similar looks and temperament in the two younger children.

It also turns out that Squalo and Delfina's maternal grandfather took in and raised Falco's mother Lavina after her parents' untimely early death, so Silvia Soave has taken a marked interest in her all-but-nephew since discovering his existence. Which has been rather fraught at times due to unavoidable personality clashes, but still manages to be a healthy and positive relationship; Squalo likes that his mother now has somebody else to push her musical aspirations onto and has stopped attempting to guilt-trip him into taking up the cello again now he has a fully articulated and responsive prosthetic hand, so he is prepared to mediate occasionally. Xanna found out afterwards from her fellow Guardian that Silvia recorded the two kids playing so that her father could hear her daughter and Lavina's son performing together, which may possibly have a greater effect on Squalo as a completely unintentional guilt-trip.

Christmas Eve is _not_ a working day, but Massimo shows up mid-morning with a stack of files, three Guardians and a worried frown, so Xanxus distracts the toddlers with piggy-back races around the Iron Fort's main hallways –Pýř rolls his eyes but goes with it, Turmeric allows himself to be suborned and Bel declares he and Mela will be victorious– then settles in for a private meeting in the nearest study. Well, not entirely private: along with Massimo and Xanxus there's Andrea, Squalo and herself attending.

"It's not exactly a problem just yet," Massimo says as an introduction, laying out the folders on the table and shuffling a few pages of notes, "just a series of coincidences; increasingly suspicious coincidences."

Xanna sips her tea as her husband opens the nearest file and makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. "The Gesso family?"

"They're new; well newish," Massimo explains. "Started out as a legitimate family business selling replicas to people who couldn't afford original artworks back in the mid-nineteen-twenties, branched out into art fraud during World War Two to con the Nazis and fund the Resistance, then stuck around on the fringes of the Underworld. They do legitimate restoration and original works as well, but most of their mafia business lies in creating perfect copies of famous works for wealthy collectors, who then pay a thief to do a substitution with the original." He pauses. "Except now they seem to be branching out into electronics, computer technology and the internet."

"Very successfully," Squalo notes, turning another page of the open folder in front of him.

"Suspiciously successfully," Massimo agrees seriously. "Despite the dot-com bubble bursting this year due to the American stock-market downturn, the Gesso invested and divested at all the right points in the past eighteen months to make themselves a massive fortune, coming out the other side as the sole owners of three-dozen separate internet-based companies across a wide range of sectors, many of them purchased at fire-sale prices. Through a range of shell companies, of course."

"Luck?" Squalo suggests dryly.

"Lie," Xanna says instantly.

"Well that's me told," Squalo grouches good-naturedly, returning to his reading.

"How?" Xanxus asks, setting his current reading aside and sliding another folder across the table towards himself.

"No idea," Massimo says bluntly, "but nearly half the businesses deal in satellite mapping, digital photography, facial recognition software and other surveillance-tangential services, which makes my Intuition itch. A few of the others are computer modelling, behavioural programming, robotics software and developing high-speed communication networks."

"Have you read Orwell's 1984?" Xanna asks, trying to get a grip on the ominous murmuring in her brain concerning white orchids and Rubrics-cube-buildings. "Satellite surveillance with high-resolution real-time monitoring seems suspiciously plausible in the near future, considering how quickly digital development's been progressing lately." Plus she remembers Google Maps, which is the kind of thing the Vongola should be justifiably wary of. Flames do show up on camera after all and satellite photography clear enough to pick out people's faces as they wield multicoloured fire would be very bad for Omertà.

"You think?" Andrea glances at her, then back at the pages in his hands, "You do; set-up phase. Fuck, how did we miss that?"

"Ambitious," Xanxus grunts, eyes narrowed as he glares at his own reading; "really insanely ambitious. Unnaturally prescient too; the Intuition is not this precise." The famed Vongola Intuition is, in the words of Squalo, 'even more bullshit than regular Sky bullshit,' but it is still limited by what a person actually knows and believes, extrapolating based on prior experience rather than just conjuring facts out of thin air. In some ways Xanna's knack for truth is even more bullshit, what with it not depending on her own perceptiveness or the knowledge of the people around her but something both less tangible and more fundamental.

"The Varia was initially set up to do sabotage during the war," Xanna says thoughtfully, looking down at the reports in front of her, "and whatever the Gesso are doing looks exceedingly micro-managed. Time-sensitive too; you have to be really quick and attentive to play the stock market like this." So many instances of perfect timing, 'casual' encounters and 'just happening' to know the right people couldn't possibly be anything but staged. Maybe some Mist-manipulation at work too, considering serendipity does not work like this. Not for nearly two years straight.

"Sabotage their investments and businesses with plausible accidents and bad luck, find out who's orchestrating the changes, monitor them for further information on how they're doing this and maybe assassinate later," Squalo summarises; "hey, it's easily done. Orders, Boss?"

"Get Viper to consult," her husband orders, "and loot the lot. If this is the future I want the family to have a head start." Looting is another longstanding Varia Tradition dating back to the Second World War; when you're an independent scouting force fighting Nazis on home ground you need all the resources you can get your hands on and robbing the enemy of everything –both nailed down and not– is both logical and patriotic.

"Yes Boss!"

Xanna is reminded of the Varia Story involving a wartime Squad who actually stole an entire faming hamlet and the adjacent mile-long stretch of road off a mountain pass so the arriving Nazi force would think they'd got lost and retrace their steps; it's even a true story. That they then 'left' the tiny settlement –and road– in the next valley over, leading across a stretch of mountainside infamous for its landslides… well that was just showing off.

Hopefully the Squads assigned to investigating the Gesso will have just as much fun with their latest mission. Xanna may not be an Officer anymore but she is kept in the loop and wheatever they get up to is bound to make her laugh; maybe she should suggest they offer Marvel Squad a chance to play?

* * *

Of course, the problem with triplets –and it's still triplets, four months and she hasn't lost any of them yet– is that's a lot of baby in quite a confined space; she's already looking rather rotund and she's not even halfway through gestating yet. Biggest baby was her darling apple, who was born five days late too, but the photos confirm that even then, Xanna didn't get as big as she is now until starting month seven. And month five is not quite ended yet.

As a result everybody's noticed she's pregnant and is under the impression that she's further along that is actually the case, which is somewhat handy as people are assuming she conceived before that nerve-racking four-day-turned-two-week mission which had Xanna fretting that Grandma would have to step in and gently guilt Tsuna into taking over for the decade and change necessary for Titi to make it to sixteen. Considering morning sickness usually starts after week four, not in week two, her symptoms actually support the assumption; that multiple births are often also premature births will further obscure matters.

She's not going to lie, but assumptions are handy things. Unfortunately however the morning sickness is still going strong, so she's limited to light exercise and is disinclined to wander very far from home. As in, the grounds of the Iron Fort are quite far enough.

Well there's been a trip to Cesco's, but she has not set foot inside Varia Headquarters since conceiving; Xanxus thinks it's a bad idea considering how sensitive she is to meaty and chemical smells and the rest of the Officers agree. She is not exactly Quality right now, so Xanna is happy to accept the restriction. At least everyone now has mobile phones, so she can talk to her Varia friends without having to faff about with the landline and can invite them to visit her whenever she wants.

Her kids are all very excited at the prospect of a new baby sibling, although Myrina is too young to really understand what the fuss is about and Lambo had a bout of insecurity about being 'replaced', which Xanna swiftly disabused him of.

The only people who know she's expecting three babies are Luss, Squalo and her husband, although Pýř is sufficiently Flame-sensitive to have noticed as well by now. The Cloud is keeping his mouth shut though, so Xanna isn't prying into what he does and doesn't know. Only Luss knows about the mishmash that is her babies' parentage however and she's sworn him to secrecy; there's no point sharing that mess until she knows for certain that all three babies are going to live to be born, which is by no means guaranteed.

'Tera doesn't know yet. She has told him that she is fully aware of the parentage of her babies but it waiting until birth to share the specifics, in case things don't pan out, and he has accepted her decision. He's calmed down now she's a little better and her calm confidence in asserting that she knows who fathered her baby –or babies, since 'Tera is smart enough to guess there might be more than one– has reassured him that however things turn out, everything's going to be fine.

Which it will be; the surprises will be funny and will serve the three men right for being so dead set on messing around with Flames to one-up each-other in bed. Sex is supposed to be fun, not a power struggle or a competition; tangible awkward consequences should cool their enthusiasm, or at least persuade them to be a bit more careful where she's concerned. This is her worst pregnancy ever and she does not want to repeat the experience.

* * *

It's early May, she's reached thirty weeks pregnant and she looks like a hippo. She feels like a hippo too; a bloated, achy hippo with three caffeinated monkeys trampolining on her bladder. Being able to Harden her muscles and interstitial fluids is a wonderful skill, as without it Xanna is sure she'd be even more sore and bruised. She much prefers her blood to be running around her veins, not just sitting under her skin.

Luss is now starting to hover more blatantly, as triplets are born on average a month premature and he really wants to prevent that if possible, so they won't need any medical interventions or be at such a high risk of developing complications later in life. Her being able to Harden her muscles really helps there, as she can more easily support their weight and being also able to Harden her interstitial fluids –not much, but a little– is protecting her poor squished internal organs and reducing the likelihood of her developing complications of her own. Luss has been monitoring her blood pressure and diet in particular, so as to lessen the risks of preeclampsia since three babies mean more risk of practically everything.

Standing up is getting very difficult; lying down is not much better, to be honest, and she can't roll over in bed without taking half the sheets with her.

It's now blatantly obvious to everybody that this is a multiple birth, although the rumour mill still thinks it's twins. Only close family and Housekeeping have been informed of the impending triplets –and told it's a secret– but the Varia all know anyway and her friends 'just happen' to visit far more often than usual, so have probably picked up on it. 'Tera included; he's practically family so knows how many babies she's expecting and is clearly a little bit twitchy about the statistical possibilities as he's not ignorant of what Flames can do in bed. She still hasn't told him the details yet though; she hasn't even told Xanxus yet. She has told them that is was surprising though. Which is mean of her, but the ongoing reactions are worth it.

Today however a bunch of Varia are accompanying her husband and all the kids on a shopping trip to buy clothing, bedding and toys for the babies, since what they have left over from her daughters being newborn is barely a third of what they're going to need and probably too big to begin with. Xanna is therefore sprawled out on the couch in her sitting room, patchworking with the material propped up on her bump. She's spent so long sat on the couch this pregnancy that she's made an entire double quilt and is already halfway through another single one, now in diamonds rather than hexagons.

"Ah, granddaughter; you look terribly uncomfortable." Grandma Vongola is always refreshingly direct about her pregnancies, it's wonderful. She never romanticises any of it.

"I am horribly bloated, my ankles ache even while propped up on cushions and the froglets are practicing their kung fu against my kidneys," Xanna says, half in jest and entirely seriously. "Please distract me?" She's given the triplets the collective nickname of 'froglets' since she has to call them something and they are very, very bouncy. Xanxus thinks one of them is a Cloud and the other two are Skies –all Latent of course– but lately he's taken to specifying 'Sky-ish', so Xanna has a feeling those two might take more after Makoto's side of the family. Possibly; Flames aren't really set in stone until a child gets to age nine, unless of course they become Active before then. Generally it is the secondaries that might change, but Sky is a composite Flame so it's possible that they have; it might even be part of normal development, but the science is very limited there.

The aged lady –she's turning ninety-three next month– smiles a little slyly as she settles in the armchair closest to the sofa. "As it happens I do have a story I think you'd enjoy hearing, dear. Since it's just you and me and there's nobody still alive to make a fuss about it."

"Oh?" Xanna is abruptly aware that it really is just the two of them in the room; Grandma's Mist is loitering outside in the hall and her Rain is nowhere to be seen.

"I'm sure you've noticed my prevarication on the subject of my marriage, dear," the former Eighth says cheerfully, "so I think it's about time I explained why. The story will amuse you, I believe, and may even give you a few ideas." She side-eyes Xanna mischievously; the pregnant Lightning gets the impression that unlike the rest of the Vongola Alliance, her husband's grandmother _has_ got the maths right concerning conception dates. And is highly amused by the possibilities rather than scandalised.

"So, my marriage," the old lady says brightly. "As you know, I was the only Sky among Seventh's children. However the option of me inheriting only became possible in nineteen-nineteen, when married women were legally permitted to hold money and property separate from their husbands. Not that the mafia is massively concerned by regular laws, but it made matters more straightforward and prompted a cultural change as well. I could have been made Heir even before then, but I could not have married without granting my husband a sense of entitlement to the Vongola, which I would never do, and unless I married I could not continue the family without being disrespected as a loose woman, the dichotomy of which weakened my position. Indeed, up until I was nine most of the family believed it would be one of my three male Sky cousins who would inherit, despite my being very obviously a strong Sky."

"However, it was clear that should the family become mine, any husband would still have the lion's share of the legal rights over my person," the former Eighth continues, "and that I refused to allow. If I was to be Donna and inherit, no-one could be allowed to own me in such a manner. Unfortunately I still needed to marry; my place in the succession was precarious due to my sex, but marrying and producing a Sky heir of my own would consolidate my power base. So I knew that marry I must. The problem was finding a suitably respectful prospective husband." She sighed. "And being a woman, I couldn't just marry one of my Guardians; I had to make a proper match with somebody who wasn't 'help'."

Classism as well as sexism; it's so nice to be reminded how far society has come in the past century. Although to be honest, Xanxus would have got a hell of a lot more whispers and side-eyeing had he been a woman marrying a male Guardian, so that aspect has not changed.

"In the end my Guardians decided that, in order to secure the family, they would have to resort to subterfuge," the old lady continues, pouring herself a cup of the hibiscus tea laid out on the coffee table. "So they found a recently-deceased young man of good but obscure family and modest temperament, made his parents and close friends forget that he had died and created a very convincing illusion to court me. Mist did most of the work of course, but Rain –my first Rain, not the one you know– played a large part as well and so did Cloud and Lightning. Sun and Storm were women, so they couldn't wear the illusion, but they added authenticity to the farce by 'chaperoning' and then gossiping about it later.

"My father was pleased by the match –although to this day I have no idea how long they actually succeeded in fooling him– gave his blessing and the wedding went ahead. Which left me on my wedding night, standing just outside my bedroom and realising that I was going to have to sleep with _somebody_ in order to get pregnant and it was going to have to be one of my Guardians; I was after all a wife with no husband. Mist I had known since childhood and was my brother in all but blood; Cloud was married. So it had to be Rain or Lightning. Lightning noticed this as I did, turned to Rain and offered to flip a coin; Sun and Storm promptly hit him for being so crass and insensitive. As the violence escalated Rain politely propositioned me, I accepted and my wedding night proceeded more or less as expected."

Xanna blinks. This is not a turn she had anticipated the story taking. It's all true though, which makes it all the more hilarious: Ninth was a bastard. Eighth was never actually married. You could not make this up.

"I became pregnant fairly quickly, giving birth to my Sky son shortly before turning twenty," the former Eighth continues, "which consolidated my position in the succession and made me my father's favoured candidate. The External Advisor still favoured my oldest cousin, for his gender more than anything else. However I recognised I could not become Donna with a living husband; the other Dons would expect him to moderate and control me to their narrow standards of acceptable female behaviour and the longer the deception continued the more likely it was to be discovered. So shortly after my son's first birthday, my 'husband' succumbed to the illness which had in fact killed him almost four years earlier, a private funeral was staged and his headstone edited. Once widowed I was legally granted full custody of my son, full independence from any other man and full access to my own inheritance; more than enough to lead the Vongola on my own merits. Which I then did, and very well too if I do say so myself."

"That is quite a story," Xanna says mildly once she is sure the old lady has finished. "Illuminating."

"It's amazing what you can get away with if you are brazen enough and have a good Mist to hand," Grandma Vongola agrees wickedly, "and believe me dear, I do _completely_ understand the appeal of Rains. Although my grandson has gone one better than I and managed to bed both his Rain and Lightning at once; I rather envy you their vigour and athleticism."

Of course she knows; grandmas know everything. It's a rule. "There are already three little Vongola girls," Xanna says calmly, "so I thought it might be nice to have one or two of the children I have this time take the Vittore name." She is not going to admit to anything; she is not almost ninety-three and well past the point of risking her children's parentage being used against them.

"That's a lovely idea, granddaughter; they will still be my great-grandchildren, of course, and able to take the Vongola name if they prove to be Skies, but you are the oldest of the Vittore so technically the head of the family until young Natsuki comes of age," Grandma Vongola agrees cheerfully, eyes twinkling, "and of course there is no doubt in anybody's mind that your children have the right to take on your family name." The Vittore are not technically an Alliance Family, so they don't have the Rule that states that Guardians can't be Dons. In theory it should be Naomi inheriting, but not being obviously male means most people assume they won't. Xanna is leaving it up to them to decide.

However the fact that one of her children does _not_ technically have an automatic right to the Vittore name makes Xanna spit up an entirely inappropriate giggle.

"Share the joke, dear?"

Xanna shakes her head. "This one is for my husband first," she demurs, "and I have been sitting on it for some time." So has Luss, although she knows there have been moments they've been tempted to spill the beans as the Sun comes rushing to her to share the circumstances of potentially comedic timing every time they have to hold themselves in check.

The twinkle in Grandma Vongola's eye turns wicked. "A good surprise, I hope?"

"Most excellent and genuinely amusing," Xanna says sincerely. "He will probably tell you himself right after."

"Then I shall look forwards to it, dear."

* * *

Xanna manages to make it to dinnertime on the eighteenth of June before labour pains become frequent enough to be seriously disruptive; still two weeks before full term, but much later than is usual for triplets so there are unlikely to be any health complications related to their being born prematurely. Birth-related complications are however still terrifyingly plausible.

"A Caesarean?" she asks Lussuria as the Sun carries her out of the dining room at speed with Maínomai, each of them with an arm wrapped around the back of her ribcage and their other hand steadying her bloated belly. Xanxus is delayed by having to corral the suddenly very excited children and Squalo is probably calling 'Tera; they've already got an excuse prepped involving his and her husband's ongoing infrastructure design project.

"Something a bit more Mist-sneaky than that, sugar," the Sun says distractedly, steering them around a corner. "No actual cutting you open, for one; we'll move the babies out one by one as the amniotic sacs burst but before they start moving down through your cervix. I'm so glad I decided to take that midwifery course in the lead up to Melanippe being born; I really do not want to try and explain this to one of the regular Vongola midwives, they'd be scandalised."

"Because you're involving an Active Mist with minimal medical training in something as intimate and awkward as childbirth or because I'm a guy?" Maínomai asks brightly.

"To their credit, mostly the former," Luss admits with a quick smile. "The fuss would be over my doing something experimental, in that this has never been done for childbirth before. However we've done it countless times at the Varia to remove objects stuck in wounds without further aggravating injuries and to rescue trapped kittens, so I'm confident."

Xanna knows _all_ about the hundred thousand ways the variously sized and overly adventurous offspring of Varia cats get stuck behind, above, under, around and inside things, including the plumbing, the air vents and under the floorboards. When your options are 'demolish a foot-thick cement wall' or 'find a Mist' when you need to rescue a piteously mewling kitten scrabbling somewhere around eye-height, the Mist is by far the most practical option. Mammon was always happy to stick extortionate fines on people who did punch holes in the walls and his successor has continued the tradition.

"Except that babies emerge still attached to the placenta, so I have to make sure to remove them so they sort-of do come down the birth canal," Maínomai explains conscientiously as they hurry up the stairs, "but I'll be fiddling with space so it's quick with no chance of getting stuck part-way through."

They're not taking her to Medical; Medical is not a comfortable environment and being stressed while giving birth makes everything so much worse, especially for Flame-Actives. As a result the Vongola Alliance is very old-fashioned in its birthing practices, because old-fashioned gets the best results. Trying to take the baby of an Active Cloud away to a hospital nursery would result in there no longer being a hospital, let alone a nursery –provided the new mother even got through labour without murdering anybody due to being well out of their comfort zone in a strange place– so the whole issue is neatly avoided by having a network of fully trained midwives attached to Vongola Medical, who do pre-natal checkups for every woman in the Alliance, attend home births and follow up with the post-natal checks as well. When Xanna got pregnant the second time Lussuria decided she wanted to be able to see to this part of her fellow Guardian's medical care as well, embarked on the training, attended Mela's birth as an assistant rather than just an observer and delivered Myrina personally eighteen months later.

Traditionally Donnas give birth in their rooms, a big rubber sheet on the bed under the usual bedding to protect the mattress so that once everything's over it can all be taken off by housekeeping and carted off to be washed while the mother lounges on a sofa and coos besottedly over her new baby. The rubber sheet's been there for over a month now, in case she went into labour during the night, but now it's going to get used.

She's unlikely to be ready to give birth for another five hours at least –well that's what Luss said before they whisked her off– but she's perfectly happy to spend that time lying down. Especially–

Owwwwwwww! Ah!

Especially since labour pains are no joke. Why does she always forget how much this _hurts_?

* * *

It's a quarter past midnight when her waters finally break, and two in the morning when Lussuria finally deems her sufficiently dilated for Maínomai to remove the first baby, which means Xanna has to make an effort _not_ to push. It's really difficult.

Her waters break again the moment the Mist is gripping the slippery newborn, so Xanna does not actually get to see her baby properly until five minutes later, when Lussuria lies it down across her upper chest as Maínomai prepares to remove the next one.

He. Her first son. He's smaller than any of her older children were at birth, but that's to be expected when he was sharing space with two other babies. He latches onto her nipple almost instantly.

There is a thin wail from the other end of her body and Maínomai instantly starts talking.

"Sorry about that, little man; no, it's not so warm out here but at least it's not so cramped?"

Another son? Three girls then two boys at once? Are they both her husband's, both hers, or what?

The little boy curled on her chest is a little wet and sticky, but his hair is a brownish colour. The second little boy deposited on her upper body has much darker hair, although whether it's actually black or just some other dark colour won't be clear until he's properly dry. He stops wailing the moment he comes into contact with her skin though, settling across from his sibling and nursing as well.

It takes another fifteen minutes for her waters to break again, at which point Maínomai removes her last baby and Lussuria starts moving her body on to the third stage of labour, using his Flames to gently encourage the placentas to finish coming loose from the wall of her uterus.

"Okay, honey, you can start actually pushing now," Luss says encouragingly as Maínomai carefully balances the last baby in the middle of her chest, between her breasts so it can nurse now the boys have stopped but without displacing the other snoozing newborns. This one's a girl, and even slightly soggy Xanna can tell her new daughter has blue hair. That one _definitely_ has Superbi heritage.

Finally getting to push is a tremendous relief.

"Perfect, sugar-lump, and keep going? Fabulous. You're doing fine honey, nothing torn or bleeding where it shouldn't be," the Sun says soothingly, hand dancing over her bare stomach. "Let me clean the four of you up and arrange for one of Medical's Storms to come and burn the placentas, then I can let the men in while you're on the couch. Provided you actually want to see them, sweetie?"

It's ten to three in the morning and she's exhausted, but she also feels triumphant –three healthy babies!– and the sheer relief of having nothing go wrong is making her feel giddy and mischievous.

"Once the babies are weighed and checked over and wrapped up and I've had something to eat," Xanna decides. "You can tell them now that we're all fine though."

Oooh, she now gets to explain parentage to the men. It's going to be hilarious.

* * *

Once cleaned and dried off her little girl's hair is proven to be a very bright shade of azure; the boys are mouse-blond and jet black, although she thinks there might be bluish lights in the black if the lighting were different. They're all within a few grams of two and a half kilograms weight-wise, which is slightly below healthy weight but not by much, considering there are three of them.

She's been carrying around seven and a half kilos of baby in her gut, plus all the associated amniotic fluid and placenta. No wonder her back aches despite all the Hardening she was doing in the last few months.

"Okay, before we let the menfolk in let's get parentage cleared up," Luss says cheerfully once the maids have changed the sheets and Maínomai has staggered off to get some sleep.

"Shoot," Xanna says, yawning. The babies are all dozing, bundled up warmly on her chest, and she's tired too.

"The little girl is Boss's daughter."

"Lie."

The Sun pauses. "You mean that amazing hair was hiding in Squ-chan's genes?" Two of the babies are her husband's after all, and the only one that isn't is hers and Squalo's.

Xanna grins. "Truth," she sing-songs. Squalo's father has blue hair and green eyes, although his hair is definitely not this bright; this implies that whatever it is making Squalo and his sister so pale-haired is a dominant complex rather than a recessive one, inherited from their mother. An inhibitor for hair pigmentation maybe?

"Wow," Lussuria chuckles. "So the itty-bitty blond boy is yours and Boss's."

"Truth," Xanna agrees, yawning again. She is so, so tired.

"So the dark little boy is the accidental surrogate," Lussuria surmises, making a note. "I'll be keeping a close eye on all their health, since there being three of them makes complications more likely, but I think that one is the one to watch most closely."

"True, just the first bit," Xanna specifies. "You were speculating at the end and developmental health is not set in stone, so I kind of get a 'meh'." Her ability to perceive truth only works when there are facts to perceive.

"Well that does at least imply that there's nothing wrong that proper diet and good parenting can't fix," Lussuria says happily. "Are you comfy, sugar-lump?"

"As much as I can be," Xanna sighs. Her body's still adjusting from giving birth, she's being Mist-monitored and there're a few Mist-tricks active on her to deal with the usual post-partum issues like incontinence and lochia so she can not worry about them.

"I'll go get the men then; don't worry honey, they're all sober."

Xanna snorts. "I am so tired, Luss, just go get them so I can watch them try to get their heads around the facts and then go to bed." Housekeeping have already set up the almost square wicker cot basket she decided she wanted to start her babies off in, so they can cuddle together like they did in the womb. Not that they'll be sleeping in it much to begin with; she needs to feed them at least every other hour and provide lots of positive contact, so she's going to doze propped up against the head of the bed for the first few days like she did with her other babies.

Her dark-haired boy –because he _is_ hers, she did the hard work– is more awake now and rooting at her breast; she moves him slightly so he can latch on and feels him suckle; good. Hopefully they won't all want feeding simultaneously though, as she only has two breasts. They've fed once already, but newborns have tiny stomachs and that was an hour ago.

Her blue-haired girl also starts showing an interest in food as the bedroom door opens, so by the time Xanna has her new daughter settled comfortably she has an audience of three wide-eyed men.

Both the Superbi are staring at her daughter; Pantera in particular looks a little faint.

"So, parentage!" Luss says gleefully, clapping their hands. "You may want to sit down for this bit, boys."

Xanxus sits on the floor by the end of the couch she's propped up at, leaning his head back against her thigh so he can grin goofily up at her. Her husband goes all soft every time she makes him a father, it's adorable.

Squalo twitches, but grabs a chair from by the wall, drags it closer and sits on it backwards so he can lean on the back and stare at the trio of babies over it. He looks bamboozled and his emotions are all over the place, flaring randomly through his not-quite-controlled Flames.

Pantera very deliberately flops sideways onto an armchair like the cat he is, peeking at her and the babies from under lowered lashes.

"All comfortable?" Lussuria asks cheerfully. "Good! Now, first things first, Xanna. The reason you had triplets in the first place is due to the shark here being second-generation Visconti and a Cloud-secondary; Active Clouds have the highest rate of multiple births on record, around one in eighteen; mostly fraternal twins. Which rises to one in eight if the Cloud in question has a habit of playing around with Flames in the bedroom."

Xanna glares flatly at her fellow Guardian, who cringes. "Hey, I know that _now_ ," he grumbles.

"If this happens again I will find a way to Seal your Cloud aspect and smile vindictively while you suffer," she tells him flatly, meaning every word. This has been a terrible pregnancy; she only avoided severe complications through relentless supervision and meticulous self-limitation. Thankfully she now has access to birth control that actually _works_ , so she has a few years of being able to see her feet and exercise properly to look forward to.

"Noted," Squalo mutters, eying her warily.

"Still, I will forgive you for it this time because I got a very pretty daughter off you in compensation," Xanna says pleasantly, stroking the girl's fuzzy blue spikes. "This little treasure, in fact."

Squalo chokes. Xanxus makes a delighted noise in his throat. Pantera looks both relieved and disappointed.

"But, blue!" the Rain Guardian manages.

"Gorgeous isn't it?" Xanna says affably. "Much less blatantly obvious than white hair would have been." Her skin's still red from being less than two hours old, but Xanna has a feeling this daughter will be far paler-skinned than any of her other children. She's much fairer than her husband and Squalo is fairer still; the Rain doesn't even freckle like she does.

Squalo makes a wheezing sound and clonks his forehead down on the chair back. Xanna decides to move on.

"Husband, the little one snoozing on my ribs is ours; congratulations, it's a boy."

Xanxus's eyes widen. "A son?"

"Yes, crow, you have a little boy to show off for now," Xanna says fondly.

"Name?"

"Well, you let me name all our girls, so you get to pick," she tells him, "but as with the girls, we have to agree." Myrina was nearly Andromache, but Xanxus vetoed it and she picked something else. She's glad she did too; Myrina's name suits her perfectly.

"And the third one?"

Xanna knows she's smiling rather wickedly now. "Ah, yes, baby number three… well, something a little funny happened there. You see, this one is not actually mine, genetically speaking." Which she now realises is probably Squalo's fault somehow. Obviously Cloud Flames in bed mess around with natural processes too; egg cells do not usually leave the ovary with polar bodies attached, as polar bodies normally get broken down and recycled. Luss has spent the entire pregnancy fretting about possible chromosomal abnormalities since polar bodies are not naturally void of DNA; they are the by-product of egg formation that don't have enough cytoplasm to reliably support cell division following fertilisation.

"Two sperm combined with a polar body and I ended up being surrogate. So congratulations husband, you managed to have a son with 'Tera." Although given that 'close but not quite' feeling when Luss asked the question all those months ago, she suspects that it's Pantera who supplied the Y-chromosome. So her husband is technically the 'mother' there.

Her husband gapes. Squalo topples to the floor, dragging the chair with him. Pantera chokes.

Oh yes, this is definitely worth it. The black-haired little boy in question stops suckling so she burps him gently and settles him on her stomach, moving his now-grizzling brother up to feed.

"Two sons," Xanxus manages. Off to one side Lussuria is giggling and there are a few flashes from a camera.

"Two sons," Xanna agrees. "One from your wife, one from your mistress."

Squalo starts laughing on the floor as 'Tera makes a wounded noise.

"Mistress?" Xanxus repeats, baffled facial expression twisting into a very naughty grin.

"Vongola Law says that if a Don conceives a child out of wedlock then the mistress must relinquish all claims to the child as soon as it is born," Xanna says cheerfully. "You're a Don and 'Tera isn't, so he's your mistress and you get to keep the baby. Well, _we_ get to keep the baby; as your wife I get to raise your kids."

Squalo is now hiccupping and crying with laughter, curled up around his stomach as he shakes, and the Superbi Heir is staring blankly into space, collapsed back on the upholstery with jaw slack and skin unhealthily pale.

"No more one-upmanship in bed, please?" Xanna requests, looking her husband in the eye as the two Superbi try to pull themselves together. "One ridiculously improbable pregnancy is quite enough for a lifetime."

Xanxus catches her hand and kisses her knuckles. "Will try not to drag you into future dick-waving contests," he promises wryly. "Definitely not fair on you."

"Thank-you. Now, how about names?"

* * *

It turns out she's too tired to debate names; barely ten minutes after dropping the parentage-bomb Xanna is dozing off where she sits and her husband carries her carefully to bed, her babies still tucked against her chest inside the loose robe she's wearing.

Xanxus knows exactly how to deal with newborns after three baby daughters so Xanna falls asleep in his arms, confident that he'll manage to settle everyone just fine.

She doesn't actually awake until the next day –which suggests her husband did not sleep since somebody has to have moved the infants around on her chest so they could all take turns nursing through the night– and when she does she just feels… flat. Exhausted, but in mind and heart rather than body. Not that her body doesn't ache too. It is possible to breastfeed triplets without any one of them being deprived of essential nutrients –she had Luss check the medical literature for her– but she has to feed each one as they become hungry and eat plenty so her body can keep up and not run out of milk. She could use formula, but the idea sits really uncomfortably for some reason –something she's forgotten maybe– so she's going to avoid going there if possible.

Movement on her chest catches Xanna's attention and she looks down into the unfocused blue eyes of her oldest boy.

"Hey there," she says quietly, lifting up a hand to stroke his mousy hair. "Aren't you gorgeous? My beautiful baby boy. I bet you're going to be the best kind of trouble growing up, just like your big sisters are."

She probably pissed herself during the night due to all the water her body is now purging from its system, but Mist-tricks mean that's all been instantly diverted to the nearest waste pipe so she doesn't have to deal with wet sheets and attempting to juggle babies while going to the toilet.

Her blue girl –whom she has a name in mind for but Squalo deserves to get a say– is nursing, but her other boy is snoozing with her nipple in his mouth. If her little mouse starts fussing then she'll move her tiny black-haired tom-kitten off her breast, but unless that happens she can leave him be. Well, for given values of 'leave'; his hair is so soft and lovely to stroke and she wants to touch all her beautiful babies.

The mattress moves; Xanna glances over and realises she must be _really_ out of it to have not noticed Squalo watching her from where he's sprawled across the sheets, fully dressed if not obviously armed. No boots though, since they're in bed.

"Afternoon, you," he says, voice barely a murmur. "Boss is with the girls, the cat's asleep in his usual room, Luss checked you over while you were sleeping." 'Tera's 'usual room' is the guest room he sleeps in when not crashing with them. He mostly keeps changes of clothing in it.

"Did he sleep?" 'He' being her husband.

Her fellow Guardian nods. "I've watched you and Boss with three different infants, Sprite," he says dryly, voice still barely audible, "I can make sure this batch all feed while you sleep."

"So you're sleep-deprived." She doesn't have the energy to care right now, so it's a fairly flat statement.

Squalo shrugs. "Today. We can take turns."

Like Xanna's going to turn down help; one infant is already enough effort to keep two working adults teetering on the edge of exhaustion. Three… that's effort _cubed_.

"Not back yet, are you?"

Xanna considers the question. "No." she has a bit of a depression problem anyway, so post-partum blues hit her hard. With Myrina she actually segued into post-partum depression, which her husband dealt with by taking her on holiday for two weeks. A holiday in which he doted on her unstintingly, did most of the child-care and invited over all her female friends to talk about normal things with her, which did really help and enabled her to start bonding properly with her daughter in the following weeks and months.

She's probably going to get a never-ending stream of visitors once Luss decides she's physically fit enough for them, which will be more effort but means she won't slide into isolation and misery. No true depression, just 'a bout of melancholy' as Mab phrased it.

Squalo nods, apparently not seeing any point in rehashing all the things they both know already. "You naming the girl?" He asks instead.

"I've got a name I'd like your input on," Xanna replies, petting her newest daughter's bright blue hair. It really is bright: literally the colour of blue smarties. It's an artificial-looking blue, but lacks the flatness that dyed hair has. "It's not a Superbi name though." Wildlife names are Traditional for Superbi.

"Your baby," her fellow Guardian says shortly, although his gaze has dropped to the hours-old blue-haired infant now dozing on her chest. "Not your husband."

Xanna assumes this to mean that Squalo was not expecting to have any say in names, as a different name would draw attention to this baby being 'not like the others' and potentially lead to speculation concerning parentage. She and Xanxus have already made it known that all the non-Sky children born this time would be taking the Vittore name, so this girl not being a Vongola will not be cause for gossip; her first name however will match those of her other daughters.

"I was thinking Clymene," she says.

Squalo pauses. "Wasn't she an Oceanid?"

"The name means 'fame' and yes, there's an Oceanid Clymene, but there's a Nereid and an Amazon too," Xanna says quietly.

"Fits with the other girls then."

"Plus a marine theme, for you and for her hair," Xanna agrees, the joke coming out a little sharper than intended.

"Hey, I have no fu–" Squalo cuts himself off and takes a calming breath "–I have no clue where that blue comes from. Dad's got blue hair but it's dark like Grandpa and the cat," he complains. "She looks like a Mist's been screwing around with Alterations!"

"You know that the blue hair gene inhibits the brown hair gene?" Xanna asks. This being something she actually looked into because hair in every colour of the rainbow was _not_ a natural feature of her previous life. "So there's blue-black hair, intensely rich blue hair, blue-gold hair which is green in various shades and blue-red hair which is all the purples. But my hair's light brown. Just really light brown, with the wispy hair around my face being almost white-blonde." She knows she has a platinum blonde gene under the brown, as there's no other explanation for Titi's hair. Oh, Flames make things weird with the occasional spontaneous pigment mutation but those are usually more exotic changes, like the 'golden blond is very diluted recessive brown gene' changing to 'golden blond is bright acid yellow inhibiting the black hair gene and the presence of diluted recessive brown moderates it'.

"So it's your hair pattern, but with a blue gene not a brown gene." Squalo looks from the baby to her and back again. "You'd look really sickly with blue hair."

"I have slightly yellow skin," Xanna points out dryly, "which the baby probably will not; you're incredibly fair-skinned so she's going to be paler than me." All three babies are still more red than anything else, so skin tone is still up in the air. Blue hair pigment will probably correlate with wintery lavender skin-tones though.

"I like Clymene," Squalo says, going back to the original topic of conversation.

"Clymene it is then." Xanna pauses, her stomach gurgling. She needs to eat and eat well to be able to keep all her babies fed. It will get harder as they get bigger, but starting them on other foods after the six-month-mark sits better than using formula right from the outset. "Is there food?"

"There's food. I'll get it."

* * *

Two weeks after giving birth –and Grandma Vongola is _delighted_ to have three new grandchildren as a ninety-third birthday present– Xanna is cuddling her three sleepy babies and telling them what a silly shark her fellow Guardian is for running off to the Varia because his grandpa came over to visit, when 'Tera walks into her sitting room. He looks frazzled.

"Dear friend, can you talk to my lady-love, please?" he asks in Greek, presumably to stymie the eavesdropping attempts of Titi and Mela, who are both sprawled on the carpet playing with Playmobil, their sprawling village taking up almost a third of the floor. It's ridiculously hot outside, it being July, but having three newborns to care for has made Xanna decide that her air-conditioning Alteration is a necessary addition to all the rooms she uses regularly. Her visitors certainly appreciate it.

"On what subject?" Xanna inquires, handing over Helenus –as Xanxus has named his younger son– to his other parent. The little boy has faint bluish lights in his black hair, skin a warm, rich olivine and very dark brown eyes, but despite very clearly having her husband's slightly Asian eye-shape he is in every other way a miniature of his other parent, from face to ears to hands and feet.

Pantera automatically accepts his son, cuddling the baby close and staring down at him with baffled wonder. "Me and your husband," he replies a bit distractedly, running a fingertip over Helenus's palm and smiling as the baby grips it tightly.

Yes, Immacolata definitely deserves to know about that before agreeing to marry 'Tera, which is likely to happen considering they've been seeing each-other for most of a year and the woman seems disinclined to dump him for being unconsciously intimate where Xanna is concerned, if only because she trusts Xanna's commitment to her wedding vows.

She and 'Tera have already broken their hearts on each-other; they are no longer passionately in love and never will be ever again. They're friends; really close friends who are still fond of each-other as friends. 'Tera and her husband on the other hand… well, her husband's not in love with 'Tera. The cat however is definitely a little smitten.

Thing is, 'Tera is manipulative. Xanna knows this intellectually, but most of it goes over her head and he can't pull much on her anyway because she can hear when he's being dishonest, so it's never been an issue in their relationship. Other people however are either entirely oblivious –and therefore not really his friends– or notice it, dislike it as they become aware of more of it and stop spending time with him. Xanxus on the other hand decided instantly that her ex-boyfriend's mile-wide manipulative streak is awesome and hilarious, just like he finds the Varia's constant power-play of lies and half-truths to be amusing and entertaining. So they are the worst kind of best friends, egging each-other on to greater heights and darker depths when not casually coexisting in the same space, having heated debates over some obscure thing or other, or plotting the downfall of some incautious fool who crossed them. Sometimes they do all four at once.

Her husband loves Pantera; her husband is not in love with Pantera. Pantera on the other hand is more than a little in love with being completely accepted and is rather attracted to her husband on top of loving him as a friend. Xanxus reciprocates the attraction –'Tera is his type– so they have a thing. A thing that she is fully aware of and frequently participates in, since Xanxus is her husband and all sex decisions are joint decisions. Their relationship with 'Tera is mainly sensual –cuddling and kissing and sleeping in the same bed– but they have sex once or twice a year, by which Xanna means there is mutual sexual contact but she usually only has intercourse with her husband.

They haven't done anything sexual together since 'Tera revealed he was seeing somebody –Xanxus may not have broken the damn cat's nose like she did but he definitely was not impressed by the deception– but 'Tera wanting her to talk to Immacolata about this implies he doesn't want to end either relationship if he can possibly help it. Or maybe he's giving his girlfriend one last chance to back out before proposing; probably both. 'Tera is clever like that.

"Why are you asking me?"

"You don't lie, or omit things because they're awkward and embarrassing," the Superbi Heir says with a sigh, settling in an armchair and snuggling his son in earnest. "You're reliable."

Okay. The implication being that 'Tera is not going to hide his relationship with Xanxus from a potential spouse and won't compromise on it either; his choice, although it will probably make marrying rather challenging for him. Then again, he does technically have an heir now –although he won't have any rights to Helenus until Xanxus changes Vongola Law a bit to allow for the complication of a mistress being a mafia heir or heiress in their own right– so he doesn't _need_ to marry to continue the family line. Even though Traditionally the Superbi 'strongly encourage' their Heirs to marry before they become Dons, as marriage is a growing and learning experience that changes a person. Like becoming a parent is.

Another implication here is that 'Tera has been rolling around the idea of being her husband's 'mistress' in his head and decided he's not actually opposed. So this is making it official, although generally a man has a mistress rather than being one. 'Tera is older than her husband so is obviously not a 'boytoy' either, but in Italian the world for any extra-marital partner is 'amante' –meaning 'lover'– which is not gender-specific. Xanna however still thinks in English despite having spent over a decade in Sicily and most of her friends are polyglot, so they use English as much as they do Italian, French, German and Japanese and most of those languages have gender-specific terms for 'person a man is in an extra-marital relationship with' which imply that said person is female. Her husband likes using those terms because 'mistress' is funnier than 'lover' and implies companionship as well as emotional and physical intimacy.

Oh, and baby. 'Tera and her husband have a baby and 'Tera is not going to do anything that might compromise his ability to visit his son as often as humanly possible.

"I'll tell her about you and my crow then, tomcat," Xanna agrees. "About your little kitten as well."

"Tomcat?"

"You somehow bred with my husband," Xanna points out dryly. "If you hadn't crashed our party I would probably have only had twins."

'Tera snorts. "Can't say I'm sorry for that," he admits, smirking wryly down at the sleeping infant in his arms, "though I do regret what it cost you."

Quite right too; it was a terrible pregnancy. It's over now though so she agrees, her adorable little trio are worth it.

"When?" she asks instead.

"Three days?" he suggests. That's a Monday.

"Morning," Xanna says firmly; July afternoons get very stuffy even with the artificially-imposed temperature cap indoors and she is still recovering.

* * *

Explaining to another woman that your husband and her boyfriend have an ongoing relationship that is occasionally sexual is not easy. Xanna however has a plan, because she can be sneaky too.

Most of the plan is babies, culturally-dissonant casual girl-talk bombshells and refusing to lose her temper, but it is a plan. Getting Immacolata to like what she's going to hear is not the plan; the plan is to manage to say everything and ensuring Immacolata understands what is actually going on, as opposed to what cultural knee-jerk reactions say is going on.

After that her reaction is up to her, but hopefully Xanna's new friend will take the time to think critically about the situation rather than be impulsive and emotive.

Although 'impulsive and emotive' is definitely the reaction of choice for most non-Varia people, bafflingly. Xanna still doesn't understand why; so many novels, movies and television dramas have 'emotive reaction to misunderstanding causes unnecessary drama' as a plot point –sometimes several times in the same story– that you would think people would notice it is a thing, taken a deep breath and try to think critically. But no.

Well, she will be hopeful; this is after all the woman 'Tera wants to marry and he has good taste in friends.

"Immacolata!" Xanna really is delighted to see the other woman; they've become friends over the past six months as her fellow –if Latent– Lightning has visited her regularly throughout her pregnancy to chat about a variety of subjects, Pantera included. "Could you hold Clymene for me? I've burped her and everything, but Astyanax and Helenus still need feeding and I don't have enough arms." The main problem with triplets is not having enough arms; it's only going to get worse as they grow, as there will come a point when she can't carry them one-handed due to changes to their centre of balance.

"Of course; who's a lovely little lady then? Yes you are!" her friend coos, cradling the baby comfortably and sitting down at the other end of the couch from Xanna. Clymene blinks up at Immacolata, burbling curiously and waving a hand. "Yes, it's me again!" Immacolata says brightly. "It's lovely to see you too, angel!"

Xanna turns her attention to her sons, who are starting to fuss. "Now, now boys, there's no need for that kind of thing," she croons, slumping backwards to make feeding both of them at once easier. "See? Isn't that so much better."

"Those two look so like their father," Immacolata comments, "but the little princess here is so different!"

Oh look, an opening. "That's because my husband and I have a thing going with Squalo and these three were conceived when he was in bed with us," Xanna says matter-of-factly, "hence why we decided months ago that all three of the triplets would be taking the Vittore name unless they turned up Sky; less scrutiny that way."

Immacolata double-takes visibly. "You were having an affair?"

Xanna frowns. "No. My husband and I decided _between_ _us_ that we did not mind engaging in a semi-serious relationship with his Rain Guardian. It was a shared decision, made after Squalo expressed an interest in the both of us; we, as a married couple, are in a relationship with Squalo. It's on and off, he's still dating other people and looking for someone to be his partner and match like Xanxus and I are each-others, but he sleeps in our bed half the time when he's at the Iron Fort and when all three of us are there we sometimes have sex."

"Sometimes?" Immacolata looks morbidly curious, like a spectator at a traffic accident.

"It's not about the sex, not really; mostly we cuddle," Xanna says honestly. There's been even less sex of late, what with having three infants needing to be fed every other hour; sometimes the snuggling has taken a brief detour into intimate touching and orgasms but that's been it. She is too tired for anything more than that and what with helping the babies feed while she's sleeping neither man is exactly in great shape either. Her husband has been napping behind the sitting room couch in the afternoons and Squalo has reportedly dozed off at his desk at the Varia on several occasions.

"Is that a Sky and Guardians thing?"

Xannna ponders the question. "I don't think it's a _universal_ 'Sky and Guardians' thing," she admits scrupulously, "but it might be an 'us' thing. All Skies are different after all, so it follows that different Skies will have differing perceptions of Harmony and that will affect bonds."

"Never thought of it like that," Immacolata ponders, rocking gently as she cradles Clymene against her upper chest. "Tenth has always been very physically affectionate though."

No, he hasn't; Xanxus only got cuddly as a preteen after Xanna made it very clear that hugs were not 'childish' or 'girly' but a normal human craving and he could have them –and give them– whenever he wanted. She is sure all that physical affection she poured into him has done wonders for his mental health and that he now spontaneously hugs people he likes is a truly wonderful gift. It's amusingly diplomatic too: getting hugged by the Vongola Tenth is a very uplifting experience since he only hugs people he is genuinely pleased to see. And knowing that Xanxus is genuinely pleased to see you is very cheering.

No, she's not biased; well not much.

"Sometimes 'Tera joins the cuddle pile," Xanna continues, "seeing as he's got a thing for Xanxus."

"A thing?" Hello, tension. Xanna smiles brightly and ignores it.

"I'm sure you've noticed 'Tera's manipulative streak," she says fondly, "and you may have noticed that he's not exactly swimming in friends. There's a connection there; Xanxus on the other hand thinks 'Tera's Machiavellian schemes are hilarious and decided they were best friends. So my dear ex-boyfriend has a bit of a thing for my husband, because Xanxus _likes_ 'Tera's controlling tendencies and takes great pleasure in one-upping him or joining in on various schemes."

"So kind of like a crush?" Immacolata asks, relaxing again and smirking faintly.

"Kind of, yes," Xanna agrees, "So in addition to being our best friend and a person we hang out with, he sometimes pushes the boundaries a bit with Xanxus."

Immacolata instantly catches the implications; they've just been talking about Squalo, it's not hard to spot the similarities. "Xanna, is my boyfriend having sex with your husband?"

"Not recently," Xanna specifies scrupulously. "He told us he was dating when I noticed I was pregnant and I broke his nose for not telling us sooner. But before then, yes occasionally. Maybe twice a year occasionally, I mean."

"Telling 'us'?"

"Well Xanxus is my husband so bedroom decisions are joint decisions; again, I have zero sexual attraction to 'Tera these days and he's is equally not attracted to me, but he _is_ attracted to Xanxus so we have ended up in bed together on occasion. I haven't had sex with him in well over a year though; I think it was…" Xanna racks her brain, "last February. Yes; his Valentines' day went sideways and we found him face-down on our couch the next morning, moping."

"Well before we were dating then." Immacolata relaxes a little more. She's still… unsettled is probably the best word… but she's thinking and listening and Clymene's still sleeping peacefully so she's probably not angry and hiding it.

"Yes," Xanna agrees carefully, "but he did show up on the morning my children were conceived –it was right after my husband and Squalo got back from that mission that ran very long last October– and things did get intimate and sticky. Which is why I broke his nose afterwards for not mentioning he had a girlfriend."

"Ah." The other woman looks like she rather wants to break 'Tera's nose too. Today. Immediately.

Both her boys have finished nursing for the time being, so Xanna decides to move onto stage two of 'distracting Immacolata with babies and bombshell revelations.' After burping Helenus, of course.

"Of course, the problem with Flames is that sometimes 'sticky' can be enough," she continues, holding her dark-haired son against her shoulder and burping him over the white cloth that is turning into a permanent accessory; not that her Varia jacket isn't wipe-clean for bodily fluids, but it's nice to not have to. "Especially if your husband isn't very discriminating about where he's putting his hands."

"One of your boys is Pantera's?"

"Flames make all kinds of intensely unlikely scenarios possible," Xanna says wryly, lying her younger boy across Immacolata's lap so the other woman can get a good look at his face. "In this case, my husband and 'Tera managing to have a son together."

She then has to steady Clymene, because Immacolata can _see it_ and it's definitely come as a shock.

"Sorry," the other woman manages, one hand reaching out to steady Clymene as she wakes and whines and the other holding Helenus in place on her lap; the little boy reacts to Immacolata's tensing up with a loud wail.

"I just ambushed you with weirdness, you're allowed to be shocked," Xanna says calmly, taking Clymene back and leaning the grumpy infant against her free shoulder so she can burp Astyanax as well.

Really, her husband's naming choices are deeply questionable but they fit the Classical naming theme, they were both decent characters and the connection to his own name is very punny, so Xanna allowed it. Then again, she was exhausted and sleep-deprived so maybe she should have waited a few more days before making a decision. Not that she's exactly been getting masses of sleep since then, what with three babies to care for, but labour is a long and exhausting process and it was stupid o'clock in the morning by the time everything was over.

"So, how..?" Immacolata ventures once Helenus has calmed down again.

"Sky Flames and all three men in the bed at that point trying to one-up each-other, I suspect," Xanna says wryly. "There's a reason it's not usually all four of us at once and it's that so many egos in one place is not restful. Anyhow, two sperm combined with what _should_ have been a non-viable polar body and now I have a bouncing baby boy with two fathers, to whom I only contributed mitochondrial DNA and gestation space. Which led to the question of 'who gets the baby' since I lack maternal rights, and thus led us to designate 'Tera as my husband's mistress for legality's sake, since the mistress of a mafia Don loses all rights to his children as soon as they are born; because Xanxus is a Don and 'Tera isn't. This is despite my not being entirely sure which parent my little kitten gets his Y-chromosome from. "

Immacolata shakes. With laughter. Possibly hysterical laughter, but she's laughing and Helenus is waving gleefully and babbling happily, so Xanna counts it as a win.

"How did he react to that?" Immacolata finally manages to wheeze.

Xanna grins. "It took him a while to find any words at all," she admits candidly, "but I do not get the impression he minds very much. I also do not think he is going to stop spending time with us –and my husband in particular– despite also wanting to marry you."

"Oh."

"Although if you do agree to marry him I think you should ask to join in; spouses do things together after all," Xanna says judiciously, "provided you are comfortable in that kind of setting, of course." Polyamory isn't for everyone.

Imacolata looks… Xanna does not know what that look is. "Are you propositioning me, Donna Vongola?"

"I do not personally experience much in the way of sexual attraction," Xanna says carefully, "but I do like sex. With my husband in particular, but I don't mind being intimate with other trusted people we are both comfortable sharing ourselves with, regardless of gender. On occasion that is; we want to have plenty of time together by ourselves as a couple. 'Tera likes you –I'm pretty sure he wants to marry you– and since meeting you I've come to see you as a dear friend. You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with, but if you are serious about 'Tera at the very least you should come along and watch sometime." She smiles slightly. "They look very good together."

Okay, _that_ look Xanna can decipher: Immacolata is imagining 'Tera and Xanxus naked together and finding it very distracting. She should help this along. "I have pictures." Because her husband is an exhibitionist, their tomcat has no concept of shame and both men enjoy raising the stakes on each-other. Squalo's not comfortable with that kind of thing, so she hasn't taken anything more daring than candid shirtless photos of him, but her fellow Guardian has taken a few pictures of the rest of them or helped her set up a few of the trickier poses of the other two men.

Yes, she does have nude photographs of Squalo, but they're stylish artistic nudes not 'oh look we're in bed together, let's take pictures' nudes.

Immacolata clutches at Helenus, eyes bright and eager. "Can I see?"

* * *

"So..?"

Xanna glances briefly up from Astyanax and across at where Pantera is sprawled on the sitting room floor, peeking up at her over one of the large floor cushions with Melanippe asleep on his back and her arms around his neck. All the under-fives in the room are napping right now, as are a few older people. Like Squalo, who is lying on his back half-under the couch with Clymene cradled against his shoulder; Xanxus is sprawled behind the coffee table under Helenus, Antiope, Lambo and Myrina, but he's watching her with lidded eyes while the kids snore. It's hot, everybody's just had lunch and the combination is very soporific.

"She may yet break your nose," Xanna concedes, "but I don't think you're going to get dumped." She pauses. "Correction: you are unlikely to get dumped as a knee-jerk reaction to her finding out you cheated on her back in October, or for accidentally having a child with Xanxus. She may yet dump you for not telling her this sooner, or for any number of other reasons connected to you being you."

"That hurts, you know," Pantera says with a pout.

"This may come as a surprise to you, tomcat," Xanna says dryly, "but you are in fact a fallible human being. Your failings are varyingly compatible with other people's flaws –hence your delightful disaster of a friendship with my husband– and it may be that Immacolata feels she cannot handle your foibles. If so, more power to her; if she however decides she can put up with your various indiscretions then you should propose instantly, because people like that are one in several million."

"I love how you call us a delightful disaster," 'Tera drawls, "so eloquent. You know we're up to no good but you enjoy the show so much you never step in."

"If you do marry her I expect you to bring her along sometimes," Xanna retorts sweetly. "Bedroom decisions are joint decisions for couples after all."

"You like her, pixie?" Xanxus rumbles sleepily.

Xanna considers the question. "She's pretty," she concedes, "and smart, if in a more intuitive and less intellectual way to what I'm used to; more like Tsuna in that sense really, good with people rather than science. What I do like about her is that she's grounded and practical and can see the funny side of things. Oh, and she really likes my photos."

"You bonded with my girlfriend over your dirty pictures," the Superbi Heir says flatly, easily catching the nuances.

"I bonded with your girlfriend over nude and occasionally obscene photographs of you and my husband," Xanna replies wickedly, "and I gave her some of you to take home with her."

Xanxus chuckles quietly as 'Tera chews this revelation over.

"If this is the female conspiracy my father warned me about then I can live with it," he says eventually, snuggling back into his cushion and going limp.

The conversation is clearly over, so Xanna settles back on the couch with her oldest triplet –whose hair is reddening and will probably look like Makoto's soon, or maybe even darker– and tries to nap a little herself. It's too hot to do much else and the babies will be hungry again in a few hours.

* * *

"Mamma?"

Xanna opens her eyes because that is a familiar voice with a familiar wobble in the middle; she smiles at Tsuna and beckons him closer. The triplets are eleven weeks old now, so they're sleeping in the crib at night and it's safe for the fourteen-year-old to slide in next to her. "C'mere, Tsu."

Tsuna slides under the sheet, snuggling close so she can feel his rapid heartbeat. "Sorry."

Xanna has no idea what time it is and doesn't really care. "Nothing to 'pologise for; bad dream?"

"I don't think they're dreams, Mamma," her Sky boy mumbles into her pyjama shirt as she wraps her arms around him. "Aria said the Mare rings connect 'parallel worlds and the infinite sea of possibilities', so I think I'm seeing that. And it's _awful_ , Mamma."

"True," Xanna admits with a sigh. "Why is it awful, Tsu?" She never uses Japanese suffixes with Tsuna's shortened nickname. Fish-related nicknames are also banned and even Lussuria avoids using '-chan' altogether with him; they all make him flinch. Tsuna is also very emphatic about being Tsunayoshi _Vongola_ , so mentions of his biological father's surname are also right out.

"All the future possibilities I can see are full of war and death," her kind, compassionate, loving baby whispers, "and the parallels are heading the same way; the same steps taken as everything everywhere hurtles towards destruction."

True. Well, that won't do. "Who is it doing it, Tsu?"

He doesn't answer immediately. She rubs his back and lets him settle.

"He calls himself Byakuran," her boy replies eventually, "but I don't think that's his real name. Or at least not his full name; he looks like me, half and half. The group is called the Millefiore, but it's an amalgamation of other groups. In the future possibilities he has the Mare rings, but in the parallels he's maybe 'Tsuki's age? He's got white hair and light purple eyes, but his hair is spiky and wild, not like Squalo's. He's also got this birthmark or tattoo on his face under his left eye, which is a purple curve with three spikes radiating down."

That sounds vaguely familiar. "We'll talk to Xan in the morning, 'kay? See about nipping it in the bud." Although her husband is probably already awake and listening, seeing as their boy's Flames are still not settled and Xanxus is so much more sensitive to such things than she is. Never mind that Bel is currently sandwiched between her and her husband and probably shamelessly eavesdropping as well, despite feeling asleep to her less attuned Flame senses. Tsuna's Intuition is very sharp, so he's either very shaken to not have noticed the Storm Officer or genuinely doesn't care; Xanna would prefer the latter. Bel gets offended when his princely presence is overlooked.

"Thank-you, Mamma."

"Welcome, Tsu. Sleep."

* * *

Xanna is soothing Clyne and singing for Asti and 'Leno –nicknames have already set in, partly because two-year-old Myrina can't pronounce her younger siblings' names at all– when her phone rings, which is massively inconvenient and makes her little blueberry wail louder. She swiftly turns up the volume of the CD player a little to keep the boys entertained, grabs her phone, walks across the room and answers it, still bouncing on her toes and snuggling her baby daughter close.

" _Pronto_?"

"Can I ask questions, pixie?" Why is her husband using Irish? Oh, it must be a secrecy thing.

Xanna wants to sigh, but doesn't. Her husband wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. "Shush, darling girl, shush," she croons, kissing Clyne's forehead. "What's got you so wound up, blueberry?"

"Wife?"

"Just talking to our littlest girl, crow," she replies absently, also in Irish. "Ask away."

"Byakuran Gesso is aware of the thoughts of other versions of him in parallel universes."

"True." How is he sane? Telepathy is not exactly conducive to creating a solid personal identity; it's hard enough working out who you are without other people sticking their thoughts in your head.

"Byakuran Gesso dreams of potential futures, the same ones the Bovino's time-travel tech accesses."

"True."

"Byakuran Gesso is insane."

"Lie."

"Byakuran Gesso's foreknowledge is always accurate."

"Lie." Oh, interesting.

"Byakuran Gesso is a danger to the people around him."

"Lie, although I suspect that means 'the people around him right now' there." Who are therefore Varia and rather harder to kill than is usual. Byakuran is also very likely to be heavily restrained right now, as otherwise her husband would not have risked calling for her input at all.

"Byakuran Gesso is a danger to his immediate family."

"True."

"Byakuran Gesso is a danger to the Vongola."

"I'm getting a 'meh' there."

"So he might be one, but also might not." There's a pause on the line. "Byakuran Gesso is a danger to you, personally."

"Lie."

Another pause; Xanna rocks in place, snuggles Clyne and hums as the infant finally nods off.

"Pixie, if I bring him home will you give him a talking-to?"

"What kind of talking-to?"

"He's delusional pixie, but you just told me it's not entrenched. I think you can shake him out of it." By making it clear she _knows_ when he's lying, even if he doesn't. That's harsh, but it would be better than killing the teenager, which is the other option.

"Why are you suggesting this?" Her husband is not really a 'mercy first' person, not when those he cares about are being threatened.

A quiet huff over the line. "I… he's so fucking lonely, pixie," Xanxus says very quietly, "and he hasn't a clue who he is, not really. He's reminding me of the cow brat back when we first got him, screaming and smashing things to get attention. He's a Sky too; not Active but could easily have Creep."

In other words, her husband has found another highly dangerous feral child he wants to bring home, one who reminds him of himself and who he might have become if she hadn't been there validating his experiences. "I'll talk to him for you crow, if you think it will help."

"Thank-you." He hangs up.

"Well, it looks like I need to go change into something more formal than house clothes, doesn't it blueberry?" Xanna murmurs to her sleeping daughter. "Let's get you settled with your brothers so I can go put on something different." Probably the Varia uniform Luss is still supplying her with every year, because she is still the wife of the Varia Head even if she has retired from being Officer. Despite most of the Lightning's still calling her 'Officer' when she sees them.

Xanna is not objecting; there is no footwear anywhere else on the planet as comfortable as Varia boots.

* * *

Byakuran, delivered to her office tied up in Bel's wires and firmly gagged with one of Sert's handkerchiefs, is very definitely not all there. He feels fragile, ossified and brittle, as though all the truth is being ruthlessly bleached out of him.

"Go join Boss," she tells the hovering Storm Officer; Bel loves doting on her kids doesn't like being called out on it, due to his being a touchy sixteen-year-old. Giving him excuses is something he appreciates.

"Have fun, fairy!" the teenage Officer carols as he shuts the door behind him.

Xanna pours the tea she ordered before her 'guest' arrived, sets out the cups and then uses her Mist Flames to untie the gag from the sixteen-year-old Byakuran Gesso's mouth. No need to give him a chance to bite her.

"Who are you?" are the first words out of his mouth.

"My name is Xanna Vittore and I am the Donna Vongola," she tells him calmly, sipping her tea. "Who are you?"

"I am Byakuran and I am going to rule the multiverse," he says, voice a confident chirp.

"Lie," Xanna responds easily.

He blinks at her. "What?"

"My gift is to know the truth and recognise lies when I hear them," she tells him matter-of-factly, "and that was a lie."

"I am!"

Xanna smiles patronisingly. "If thinking that makes you feel better, dear."

The teen glares at her. "I'm going to gather the Tri-Ni-Set and use them to shape the world to my liking!"

"Lie," Xanna tells him absently, sipping her tea. "The Tri-Ni-Set no longer exist; the Arcobaleno system was abolished." Aria's explained a lot more about the old system since getting out from under the Curse and the more she's heard, the more Xanna is relieved she spoke up when she did. It was a terrible system and in more ways than the obvious ones.

"You're wearing a Vongola ring," Byakuran points out smugly.

"I said the _Arcobaleno_ were abolished; the Vongola and Mare ring sets still act as additional anchor and stabiliser, but the main bulk of the system is now automated and decentralised," Xanna says blandly. "Has been for years, in fact; Lal Mirch has long since been restored to adulthood and the other former Arcobaleno have all recently turned six." Not that she's seen any of them lately other than Viper and Skull, but Fon stopped by two years ago to express his thanks and Verde is apparently very interested in how the new system works.

Byakuran takes a few minutes to digest this; Xanna pours herself more tea.

"It doesn't matter," he says eventually; "it still exists elsewhere, so I–"

"Lie," Xanna says flatly. "You cannot do anything."

"I am everywhere!" the teenager bellows at her.

"Lie," Xanna retorts firmly. "You exist here and only here."

"I can see and hear–!"

"They are not you." Xanna knows this in her bones. "Their being genetically identical to you does not make them you; identical twins are different people. Their sharing your name does not make them you either; each of them is their own person, discrete and individual, just as you are. Each individual Byakuran in every parallel world is a different person, solely responsible for their own choices and actions. That you all hear and see each-other changes nothing; each of them is wholly and solely themselves, just as you are wholly and solely yourself."

She sips her tea. The purple-eyed teenager stares at her, confusion and unease all over his body language.

"But I can see the future!"

"So can the Giglio Nero," Xanna says brutally, "and they know that what they see is only possibilities. Hell, _I_ remember a potential future from another universe; you're not the only one with inter-dimensional brain problems."

"I am going to rule the world!"

Xanna does not bother to point out the lie this time; instead she asks, "Why?"

"What?"

"Why do you want to rule the world?" she repeats patiently. "Sounds boring to me, never mind thankless and lonely. What's the point?"

Oh, she struck a chord there; he's teetering on the edge of Activation now, but not for Sky Flames; for Lightning Flames.

Emotional pain is the most effective way to Activate Lightning Flames, so he must really, really hurt. Knowing this makes it very obvious why Lightning training turned to shit and suffering so quickly during Quarto's time.

"Ruling the world won't make people love you," she continues, not looking up from her tea. "It won't even make people like you and it definitely won't miraculously enable anybody to understand you. To not feel lonely you need to make friends, real friends you are completely honest with. Real friends won't care that you're a broken, fallible mess, because they know that they are too and they enjoy spending time with you regardless. Like how proper parents will make sure you know they love you even though they may not understand you."

"I am not a broken mess."

"Lie. You are a human being," Xanna counters, "we are all broken, fallible messes. It's intrinsic to humanity." She takes another sip of tea. "Besides, comfortable, self-confident people don't aspire to world domination; that's a symptom of insecurity."

"I _will_ rule the world."

"No, you won't because my husband will kill you first," she tells him boredly. "He was going to kill you right off, but decided to let me see if you were salvageable first."

His smile is so fake it makes her teeth ache. "Do you think I'm salvageable, Donna Vongola?"

"Do you want to be?" she asks. "It's your choice. Do you want to keep your head firmly jammed up your ass, clinging to your delusional fantasy world where you can force people to pretend to like you and go on screaming inside, or do you want to come out into the real world where people take risks and put themselves on the line to form the challenging and painful but profound and genuine connections that make life worth living?"

She feels something crack in him as she says those words, can almost see something come loose. It's his Flames; Lightning Flames. Reaching out to him with her own Flames to soothe and reassure is instinctive after so many years of bolstering and reassuring struggling Division Members; offering assurance and acceptance and comfort.

He bursts into tears as his Flames dance along the conductive wires he's still tangled in; he's effectively shocked himself there. Xanna sets down her tea, hurries around the coffee table and uses Mist Flames to remove the wires –Bel's wire is sharp enough to slice through flesh without resistence– and sets them aside so she can hug the wailing teenager. He tries to lash out, but he's a baby Flame-User and she's been Varia Quality for a decade now. She can really feel his emotions now and he hurts so much, it makes her want to cry too.

"You don't have to be alone," she tells him. "You can trust people with yourself. Not everybody is going to use your heart against you. You don't have to lie all the time to be safe." He's probably not going to believe her right away, but that's fine. This kind of healing takes time and grace.

"I hate you!"

That's allowed. "I just smashed your world-view, you're allowed to hate me," she tells him soothingly.

"No!" Byakuran wails, "You see!"

"I see the truth, Byakuran," she tells him calmly. "It's not a very nice gift, but I make it work for me." She doesn't usually pay this much attention to people –which may be one of the reasons she struggles with names– but that's out of politeness, not lack of ability. Her truth-sensing skills have only become more acute with age and practice and they're tiresome sometimes. Especially now she has three newborns to care for and not much energy left for everyone else. Squalo says she's gotten more vicious lately, but it's mostly apathy and lack of care due to her being mentally and physically fatigued.

The teenager screams into her jacket, pain and frustration and despair mingling with relief and terror.

"You don't have to know what you want," she tells him, rubbing his back. "There doesn't have to be a grand plan. There is more to you than your achievements, plans and ambitions. You will still exist as a valuable person without them."

"But, I _do_ want to rule the world?" He doesn't sound that sure.

"Why?" Xanna asks again, tone pitiless even as she offers him a handkerchief.

"I, I, I," Byakuran glares up at her, "I do!"

"Why?"

"I don't know!" Lie; he just isn't going to admit it, not even to himself.

"Then what's the point?" she asks, perfectly reasonably.

He screams again, probably in frustration, and slams his face down onto her thighs as he breaks out in fresh floods of tears.

Crying is cathartic, so Xanna rubs his upper back and lets him get on with it. At least he's taking her words on board, even if he's not entirely sure what to do about them yet.

* * *

"Knew you would fix him." Her husband sounds smug.

"I did not fix him, I broke him in a way he can probably recover from," Xanna retorts. She can't 'fix' anybody; she is not God. Byakuran recognising that she was telling him the truth and his reactions to that are all his own; hopefully he will be able to make a better life for himself than what he had initially planned.

"Not teetering on being Toxic anymore." Toxic is when Skies have unhealthy bonding conditions or use their Flames to warp the people around them to their liking, either consciously or unconsciously. Other Flame-Users can be Toxic too, but it's messiest in Skies because they become contagious and affect everybody around them.

"He's an Active and extremely unhappy Lightning right now," Xanna points out.

"Still a Sky," Xanxus says mildly. "Will train him. Should help him get his balance back."

"Are you going to introduce him to Tsuna?"

"Not yet; Fede and Aria say they'll host him for now."

"Despite Aria being seven months pregnant?" That doesn't sound very safe.

Her husband shrugs. "Volunteered, pixie. Probably a Seer thing."

Well, if it was her idea… "Well maybe she can help him deal with his dreams then; I have no idea what to do about those." Visions of parallel realities? Seriously? What is this, a sci-fi thriller? How can reality be so, so utterly ridiculous? Tsuna having dreams is one thing as that's a side-effect of the Mare rings that Aria says will eventually pass, but Byakuran's doing that and more _naturally_ so she has no idea what might help him beyond emotional support and possibly counselling.

"Her point," Xanxus agrees, bending down to kiss her. "My gentle, ruthless pixie."

"Love you too, crow."

* * *

By the time Xanxus's twenty-fifth birthday comes around a month later Byakuran is starting to settle a little, although he is nowhere near back to being the buoyant, blasé trickster Sert and Luss described to her after the teenager was handed over to Federico. He's more stable though, so he's allowed to come to the birthday party, which is once again only open to close family and foster-kids.

This is the first birthday party without Grandma though, and the old lady's absence is still painful. Yes, it's been obvious for a while now that Daniela Vongola was hanging onto life by her fingernails, but her passing happened less than a day after Byakuran's schemes were foiled and the Gesso family was firmly divested of both its heir and two-thirds of its remaining capital and investments. Xanxus is nominally holding the money and businesses in trust for Byakuran, to fund his housing and education at the Vongola, but the truth is that the former Gesso heir is unlikely to ever leave the Alliance. Xanxus is teaching him about Sky Flames, about family and about bonds, all of which will shape the teenager and set his feet on a very different path to the one he was walking before.

Xanna misses her grandma-in-law. Her heart still hurts from the funeral.

This is the fourth Traditional Vongola Birthday Party her husband has held and the kids have settled into a rhythm now: first the individual gifts are handed out by everybody not joining in with the main show, then there's a break for food and setup, and then there's the play. It's Shakespeare again this year; after the incredible success of the first party, the actors wisely decided to do something completely different for Xanxus's twenty-first and put on a pantomime. Which was a roaring success, quite literally; Xanna's not sure Xanxus has ever had such simple fun as when he was shouting 'he's behind you!' at Delfina-in-boots as the 'hero' of the tale searched for the ogre.

Puss in Boots is a very mafia fairy tale, the story of a devoted con artist winning a fabulous palace and the hand of a princess for his master –played by Takeshi– the miller's son. Delfina voiced herself very eloquently, which was truly delightful and completely hilarious.

Year before last Natsuki very ambitiously decided to produce a musical, which was rather less funny than the previous productions but well-performed nonetheless. This year –possibly due to getting fewer points for the musical– they're doing Shakespeare again, specifically Much Ado About Nothing. Which is… kind of sharp and with considerable potential for disaster, all things considered. Not the slapstick humour of the earlier plays at all. Then again, the foster-kids are all much older now –Tsuna is fifteen– and the story of gossip and deception creating drama, heartbreak and confusion before a happy resolution is one they can clearly relate to.

Most of her kids are dating now, or at least starting to look at their peers with new eyes. It's not easy, for them or for her as a person most of them come running to when everything appears to go wrong.

Fortunately for her, Alessia Scarlatti is the other favoured person to turn to for the girls and the boys are usually more eager to talk to her husband or to Dino about their latest dating disaster. Usually it's the younger ones she has to comfort; the older teens don't actually want her to know what they've been up to, although she does because the people they talk to all keep her updated. Not in detail though; if she's truly concerned then one of her Lightnings generally notices and ferrets out the specifics for her.

They're always going to be 'her' Lightnings. They aren't letting go of her any more than she is letting go of them.

The play goes… interestingly. Tsuna is a most unexpected and surprisingly convincing villain with Mochi and Chicco –as Malachi calls himself these days– as sidekicks and Natsuki makes a benevolently scheming Prince of Aragon. Takeshi and Falco make an amusing double-act as the witty Benedick and smitten Claudio, balanced by the fiery and eloquently scornful –and now surprisingly tall– Delfina as Beatrice and petite, cheerful Luisa as Hero. The comedic constable Dogberry is played by Can, who has a charmingly hilarious turn of phrase and excellent timing. Xanna knows the scarred blond is severely dyslexic and is very impressed by how confidently and smoothly he recites his part.

The prize for the winners after the play is over is a firework display which all the kids rush outside to watch, leaving the older and less interested people some breathing space to chat and relax in. The display is only half an hour long, but that's a lot of time to a teenager and makes a nice break for an adult.

"So who are you?"

Xanna glances up from making faces at Asti. "I have already answered that question, Byakuran."

She doesn't look up when she hears him sigh, or when she notices him cross the room to lean against the side of her loveseat from the corner of her eye. Playing peek-a-boo with her itty-bitty redhead is far more important.

"Who were you before you were Xanna?"

Does she want to answer that question? Who is actually asking that question? Is it the Byakuran she knows, or one of the other ones?

"Who are you asking for?" She looks at him as she asks, to see how he reacts. The tiny hesitation and glance across at her husband –who is gleefully making faces at 'Leno and laughing as the baby squeals in delight– answers her question.

"Just… you don't fit," Byakuran says lamely. "The other Byakurans haven't met you at all anywhere, not ever."

Xanna thinks about that story she vaguely remembers and how broken and lonely so many of the characters were. She thinks of what she remembers of her own childhood and how angry and judgemental and naïve she was as a teenager, but also how badly she wanted friends, and how much she has always been willing to do for those she loves. Those others are not her, but they have as much in common with her as a twin would and they should get a chance to make their own choices.

"Crow?"

Her husband glances up at her. "Pixie?"

"Want to do the blood trick for me?"

He instantly gets to his feet and across the room Luss grabs a sheet of paper out of the cupboard; she's never agreed to this before, even though they've offered, partly to protect herself and partly because she was never quite sure what it would show. Now though, having read her way through a lot of the Bovino summaries in the last few months of that terrible pregnancy and having had time to think things over, she has a theory.

Bel appears behind her and Squalo sits down on the far side of the coffee table, Clyne chewing on his fingers and drooling happily. Xanxus sits down beside her, nuzzles 'Leno until he squeals again then cuts her fingertip and sets a Conjured quill to the paper.

Everybody stares at the information written out; this is not a family tree but a detailed personal biography.

"You were born in nineteen-eighty-seven? The hell?" Squalo demands after a short, incredulous silence.

"December thirteenth; well that's a surprise," Xanna admits. "The year I knew; the date's not what I was expecting though."

"What's up with your name, fairy?" Bel demands. Her name starts with a splodge, as though the quill tried to write two different things at once. It continues '–annah' and the middle name and surname are the ones she was expecting, which implies that the name her body was given is slightly different to the one she remembers having as a twenty-nine-year-old. Parallel world differences at work, most likely.

"In retrospect," Xanna says clearly, "I believe this specific version of me fell afoul of some badly-tuned Bovino tech in some other parallel world, which punted me sixteen years into the future and then into a different world –this world– twelve years behind where I started. Which may even have created a new branch; the specifics don't really matter. However I was dumped here in June nineteen-eighty-eight with the memories of a twenty-nine-year-old parallel self from twenty-seventeen, who incidentally lived in a world that was _not_ ruled by Byakuran and definitely did not have people with natural blue and green hair walking around." She does not mention the manga with them in it. It will not help.

"So there might be a version of you walking around this world somewhere who's fifteen," Squalo muses.

"There can't be, that would cause a paradox," Byakuran says instantly. "She can only be here and be normal if her alternate self in this world is dead."

"Considering I remember my mother telling me she was in labour for most of two days and I was all tied up in the umbilical cord when the doctor finally dragged me out with forceps, it's very possible that several of my alternates died at birth," Xanna says candidly. "It may even be why I ended up here as opposed to anywhere else; there was a Xanna-shaped space in this world for me to occupy."

Lussuria cringes at the word-picture she just painted and her husband casually wraps an arm around her middle. Yes, she survived it; the odds weren't great though. If the cord had been tangled around her neck rather than her leg…

"So, almost sixteen?" Byakuran muses. "And British, going by your looks and accent."

"Yes, but the self I remember was living in Italy aged fifteen," Xanna admits.

"Northern Lombardy, by your accent when I found you," Xanxus agrees. "Old Estraneo territory; about where the Bovino had one of their bases, not far from Milan."

"The other versions might also be in America, or back in Britain," Xanna adds scrupulously. "Depending on where my father is working."

"This why you never looked for family?" her husband asks.

"I was pretty sure right from the outset than anybody I found wouldn't really be _my_ family, yes," Xanna agrees quietly.

Byakuran is still staring at the glistening red script, possibly trying to memorise it. She should probably warn him so whoever he's asking for doesn't get their hopes up.

"Don't expect much," she says quietly. "Nobody's at their best at fifteen and who I am now is very different to who I remember being then. What little I do remember. I learned a lot and grew a lot between eighteen and twenty-eight. Any versions of me you find are probably going to be like I was as a teenager: confused, fearful, judgemental, narrow-minded and barely aware of my own emotional state."

"Typical teenager then," her husband rumbles, nudging her neck with his nose and pressing a kiss over her pulse.

"Yes, but two things I suspect will hold true: being slow to trust, but trusting completely and only once after it is given, and really hating being lied to. As in, lie deliberately to my face and you will never be truly trusted again, ever." Xanna's better able to get past that now she can see all the lies, but her teenage self was far less forgiving.

"But you see lies," Squalo points out.

"Only since arriving here," Xanna says, knowing it's the truth. "I mean, I can't remember being able to see lies before, but then again I remember nothing of who I was other than my twenty-nine-year-old memories, so maybe I could and I forgot? Don't count on it, anyway."

"Why are you helping?" Byakuran asks warily.

Xanna smiles. "I think all those other versions of who I could have been deserve a chance at the happiness I've found," she says lightly, "and yes, they'll have to work for it, but so did I. Working for things makes them more worthwhile in the end." She smiles a little wistfully, "and having more friends is always nice. I've never had as many friends as I do now."

"Or as many children?" Xanxus asks teasingly.

"You're my first husband, just so you know," Xanna teases back, poking him in the ribs. "I was too busy working out who the hell I was to juggle a relationship. Besides, nobody was interested."

"Their loss," her husband says, pressing another much louder kiss to her neck and making the babies giggle.

* * *

Squalo has no fucking clue why Boss didn't just throw Byakuran out of a window when he came by the Varia mansion with his possessed Mist Guardian claiming he had a birthday present for the Head of the Varia. That the two 'guests' vanished into Boss's office with him for four hours was even more suspicious; Boss then chasing them out of the building, shooting holes in the walls as he tried to blow the smirking albino brat's head off, did settle everybody's concerns though.

It would have settled Squalo's, except Boss has been brooding since then; weird quiet thoughtful brooding with occasional stints in his workshop or in the training grounds. The Rain's never seen his Sky like this before and it's unsettling. He's also drinking quite a bit of gin, which is not something Squalo's ever seen Boss mainlining before. The swordsman doesn't like it.

"Shark." Speak of the devil.

"Yes, Boss?" the Rain Officer asks, getting up from his desk and warily eying his Sky. Xanxus is standing in the office doorway, scars half-hidden by Mist-tricks as usual and a level, introspective look on his face as he toys with one of the longer feathers hanging down his chest. A nervous tic? The fuck?

"Pack."

"Mission, Boss?"

The Sky shakes his head. "Reconnaissance."

Squalo abruptly has a bad feeling. "This something to do with the flower asshole?"

The Sky smirks, eyes gleaming. "Turns out there's a world he got defeated before the brat stepped in; my Lightning talked him down and into pieces before he even got started."

"Levi did _what_?" Squalo refuses to believe it. Eloquent Levi is not; he's about as graceful as he is eloquent and by that Squalo means not at all.

"Not Levi; some chick." Boss looks amused by his assumption though and that's a good sign. "Was older there; Quality's Quality though."

In other words, Boss wants to hunt the local version of that chick down and see if she's got the potential to be Quality here too. Well, it's something to do; Squalo ducks into his bedroom and grabs his go-bag from his wardrobe.

"Ready when you are, Boss."


End file.
